


Say Something: The Witchcastle Series Part One

by Emerson_Ryan



Series: The Witchcastle Series [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mild Language, Multi, Romance, Sexual Content, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:37:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 54,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerson_Ryan/pseuds/Emerson_Ryan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's on the edge of a burnout, and because he's seen what happens when people go down that road for too long, he decides a holiday is in order. The map pointed him in the direction of Witchcastle, Washington, but little did Tom know that maybe his fate or something more is awaiting him.</p>
<p>The life of Helena Flynn is forever changed when a certain blue eyed Thomas Hiddleston sets foot into her shop one rainy summer evening; and as much as she tries to fight it, nothing will ever be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Closer To The Edge

**Author's Note:**

> For copyright's sake let me get this out of the way. I do not now nor have I ever owned Thomas Hiddleston (though I wouldn't complain if I did) This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. 
> 
> With that out of the way I wish to say hello and welcome to my little corner of the fiction world. I truly hope you enjoy your stay. This is my first fiction (here anyway), so go easy on me, and I'm sorry if the summary isn't the greatest, I've never been the best at those without accidentally giving too much away. Oh, and there is no beta for this story, so if I missed any mistakes in my many pass over's feel free to point it out, as nicely as possible, that way I can fix it.
> 
> I feel like I'm rambling, so again, welcome and enjoy.
> 
> -Em
> 
> P.S
> 
> This story does change POV's, but they are always indicated.

**Chapter One: Closer To The Edge**

_“_ _Life is lived one the edge.”-Will Smith_

 

Labor Day weekend has only just begun, and with the windows open the faint smell of incoming rain wafts gently under the smell of summer’s desperation to hold on just a little longer, and I can’t help but to smile. Sure, my back is screaming, and I don’t even want to think of the state that the earlier baking lesson with the girl’s troop has left the kitchen in, but all in all it’s been another wonderful summer season in my own little corner of the world.

Witchcastle, Washington is the last place in the world I ever imagined myself settling in. With a love for literature and language, I set out into this thing called adulthood with every intention of seeing the big wide world, drinking in the monuments, bathing in the richness of culture, walking through the halls and places where some of the greatest souls had tread.

Instead, here I find myself, in the shadow of Mt. Rainier, surrounded by an ocean of Evergreen’s, flour caked to the front of a simple black apron, and I can’t think of a single place I would rather be. She would have loved it here. The idea filters into my head like smoke as I settle into a chair, watching the cars on Main Street filter by. The sense of community, the cheerful faces greeting you whenever you step foot outside of the door would have served as a daily holiday in her mind. It’s what she always wanted for us, and maybe this is why I wound up here.

I find my thoughts turning to her more and more as the day approaches and with a sigh I turn to the picture that hangs behind the shiny counter.

“The fireworks are going to be spectacular Mom,” I murmur before slipping back into the kitchen and setting to work, “they always are.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

Staring up at Witchcastle Estate bathed in the setting sun, I suppose I’ve found my own part of living history, and right now I should be inside, helping with the preparations for the annual Labor Day Gala, but for now I’m happy to just stand, arms crossed over my chest staring at its beauty.

“There you are!” a velvet voice with the slight twang of southern Mississippi rolls through the sticky air, “Call off the search team.” Marion Berkley stands atop the steps that pave the way to Witchcastle Estate Hotel, slim hands bunched into fists at her hips. Even after all this time her beauty is striking. I return her wide smile as I take the steps easily, exhaustion coursing through me. Sweat sheens her mocha skin evident that she’s been working hard, and with a loud laugh she wraps me in her arms when I finally reach her. “Hi Momma Bee,” I murmur mustering up a smile when she holds me at arm’s length.

“You aren’t sleepin’,” she states hazel eyes shrewd as she studies my face, and shrugging my shoulders I slip an arm around her waist letting her lead me to the work crew, “Helena James Flynn, don’t make me send you home with some of my sleep aid.” Her authoritative tone mixing with the use of my full name is enough to have me wincing.

“Last time you did that I slept for nearly three days straight, and when I woke I couldn’t make out the difference between what was up and what was down,” I say giggling when I recall the memory of coming out of that sleeping spell feeling as if I was floating in water.

“It wasn’t that bad,” she says and I laugh loudly at her dismissive tone.

“It was and everyone knows it. I walked to work, in a pair of booty shorts and rain coat, believe me it was that bad. Besides, things will slow down some after this weekend, and then I’ll be able to sleep,” I reassure her hating that I’m lying, well telling a half-truth really. Things really will slow down after this weekend, with the Estate closing until next spring. The sleeping part is the lie.

I don’t sleep; not enough really, a problem I’ve had since I was seventeen and a half. No amount of sleeping pills, holistic cure-alls, hypnotism, teas, or anything else in this world seems to help. Except for Momma Bee’s sleep aid, but that helps a little too much.

“Well at least you had the sense in your head to match the booty shorts to the rain coat,” she says steering me into the grand foyer where the electricians are already busily at work streaming the fairy lights.

“That was purely out of dumb luck, where’s Benny?” I ask looking for the familiar face.

“Benjamin Michael Berkley!” Momma Bee’s voice echoes around me, pitching over the buzz of activity surrounding us. “Hold your horses, I was just getting a drink of water,” Benny’s voice booms, and then he’s there, all six feet of him, stooping down to press a kiss to Momma Bee’s hair before turning to me. His smile is lightning quick and blindingly white as he wraps me in his arms lifting my feet from the floor. I feel dwarfed next to him once he settles me back down, but I stay attached to him.

“You owe me big for leaving me with the girls troop Benny,” I tell him and he winces making a face at Momma Bee’s back a look of worry on his face as he returns his gaze to mine.

“I’m sorry Lena, I really am, but I just couldn’t risk ruining these,” he mutters looking down at the pristinely clean shoes that cover his feet.

“Mhm, I’ll remember that the next time Mrs. Jennings comes into the shop,” I tell him relishing the groan that he gives in response as I settle my bag on the ground, “Now, where can I get my hands dirty?”

 

_**-XX-** _

_**Tom’s POV (Third Person)** _

_****_London, England_ ** ** _

 

The clock in his flat reads two a.m. and he should be asleep, Lord knows the exhaustion hangs heavy on him like a winter cloak, but sleep eludes him as he presses a wide palm to the window staring into the night outside, the lights of the city seeming to defiantly beat back the darkness.

He’s restless. Not just in a lack of sleep way. In a down to the bones, world weary way; balancing precariously on the cusp of a breakdown, he feels it. His world has been a whirlwind of activity for four years, and what he wants more than anything is one bloody damn moment to just be human.

He knew it was spontaneous, and maybe that’s what drove him to booking the five o’clock flight to the states, picking a place at random, and settling on it.

A holiday is what he wanted, what he needed with a desperation that ran so deep he wasn’t even sure he could reach the bottom of it. So, he sent the obligatory emails to his people, knowing that it will only be a few hours of silence before the responses started pouring in, and a small, almost childish side of him seriously contemplates unplugging himself from everything so he can’t be reached, but he knows some will worry, and he just hasn’t the heart to cause that, so with a frustrated sigh he pushes away from the city scene laid before him and pours himself a healthy shot of whisky.

 _‘You do realize how mad this is don’t you? Your Tom fucking Hiddleston for God’s sake, you won’t be able to just disappear wherever it you have decided to go.’_ He stares at the text message that has stalled his endeavor in packing before dropping onto the bed.

 _‘I’m aware of who I am Luke…just be my friend for a minute, and understand me when I tell you that I need this.’_ He sends the reply, placing the phone down beside him before falling back one arm flung over his eyes.

_‘You need a six month holiday to middle-of-nowhere USA? I mean really Tom, as a friend I am asking you what is really going on.’_

And from there he laid it all out for his friend, and in the end he knew his point had been made, the blessing given, and with a renewed sense of purpose finished his packing.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

He moves his long legs stretching them out in front of him, trying to find a comfortable position for his six foot two frame but it’s useless. A mix of exhaustion and anticipation fills him as he settles his head against his seat, the music playing in his ears though right now he couldn’t tell who was singing, it served as nothing more than a means to drowning out the drone of the plane’s engines and the murmuring voices all around him. With determination he closes his eyes dropping off into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because only good things come from the rain...right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting the first five (5) chapters of this particular story and wait to see how well it's received before proceeding from there.
> 
> As always, enjoy!
> 
> -Em

**Chapter Two: Rain**

_“Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.”-Roger Miller_

Saturday morning dawns with a soft drizzle that, if the weatherman is to be believed, will turn into a late summer storm come early evening, which puts a damper on my plans for an early close and one last cookout with the Berkley crew. I sigh as I pull the hood on my sweatshirt up tucking my hair under while I turn the key in the lock of my front door.

Walking down the small semi-private path that leads from my home I find the neighboring cottage is open, which is odd, since all guests cleared out the day before, but taking notice of the time flashing at me on my phone I quicken my steps realizing I’m running behind all thoughts of how odd the scene seems slipping from my mind.

The town is buzzing with activity as preparations are made for the festivities tomorrow evening, and with a dessert order that seemingly grows by the second, Benny taking over the front of Nessa’s Nook leaves seems like a godsend since it leaves me to blessed peace and baking bliss in the homey kitchen. With a hum I shrug out of my sweater and replace it with a black and pink striped apron, smoothing the material before pushing my five foot three frame on tip toes to press play on the IPod dock, The Civil Wars _Barton Hollow_ filling the quiet.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

“Earth to Lena, come in Lena,” my eyes shoot up when Benny’s hand waves in front of my face, “You were buried deep this time. Where’s your head at?”

“Sorry, was just thinking maybe I should go with mini banana custard pies rather than the shortcake,” I say dusting my hands over my hips, “What do you think?”

“I think you are running off of entirely too little sleep, and too much caffeine. I bring food, Momma Bee’s world famous spaghetti bake with strict orders to stay with you until you’ve cleaned your plate,” he says sliding a plate in front of me before reaching behind him for a bottle of green tea from the mini-fridge.

“Well, I won’t turn that down,” I say taking the first blissful bit eyes closing on a sound of enjoyment as the flavors burst on my tongue, “So what painful form of torture did she threaten you with to keep an eye on me?” Benny sputters, choking slightly over the food in his mouth and I smile shaking my head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he manages once his coughing fit has ended and all I can do is set my fork aside and stare at him, “Okay, she just worries for you is all, we all do. We know that this time of year is particularly hard for you.”

“I appreciate it, really I do, but I’ve decided that this year I’m just going to get good and drunk. The last time I got thoroughly plastered was when I was eighteen, it’s long overdue,” I say with a nonchalant toss of my head.

“You’re going to get drunk?” he asks skeptically, hazel eyes filling with confusion and disbelief, and I nod continuing with my meal.

“Very drunk, in fact you’re invited. I have my outfit planned and everything, and we’re going to go to Timber and just get completely and utterly intoxicated and dance our asses off, it’s what she would have wanted,” I say and he rests a hand on my shoulder squeezing lightly.

“If that’s what she would have wanted, then we’ll have a night we’ll never forget, and will make her blush up there in the heavens,” he says and I smile tapping my bottle to his.

 

 

The rain has moved in with a fury, and with it I find myself alone, having sent Benny to the estate to lend a hand in constructing the pavilion. I don’t mind the ritual of closing on my own; in fact there is something therapeutic in putting things to right where chaos once was. I clean the smudged finger prints from the glass display case and because my back protests I set aside the rag before stretching my arms up, fingers interlocked pushing my palms towards the ceiling breathing in slow and deep as the muscles finally begin to loosen.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry to disturb you,” a deep, English voice lilts through the air and I turn finding a very tall and thoroughly soaked man standing in the door way, “I know the sign said your closed but I’m hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

 

 

_**-XX-** _

**Tom’s POV**

Bloody, buggering hell! He knew he should have opted for the car with the navigation, but he swore he’d get by with Siri guiding his way. A fat lot of good she did him, and the first thing he’ll be doing  when he gets to this Witchcastle is calling the car rental company and telling them to come pick up the piece of shit car they loaned him.

Well the rain is nothing he isn’t used too, but regardless the stinging cold does nothing to help his black mood as he continues his trek. Why hadn’t he worn trainers, why did he insist on wearing the damned boots; his feet ache viciously but before his thoughts can continue down the slippery slope to downright miserable the welcome to Witchcastle sign can be seen and as if he’s gained his second wind his pace quickens.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

He stands outside of the shop with the beautifully carved sign proclaiming it’s _Nessa’s Nook; Bookshop and Bakery established in 2011_ , and the last thing he imagined seeing was a woman sitting on the floor, stretching. He can’t help but to watch her for a second as he pulls his hand through his short dark hair. She moves fluidly, bowing just slightly as he pulls on the door ignoring the closed sign.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry to disturb you,” he says watching as her movements halt and she turns her head towards him and staring silently at him so long he fears she recognizes him and that maybe Luke was right about not being able to disappear after all. Yet no flicker of recognition flutters over her soft face, “I know the sign said your closed but I’m hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

He watches as she gets to her feet revealing a surprisingly curvy body despite her tiny stature.

“Not from around here are you?” her voice lilts through the air with a slight rasp that reminds him of warmed whiskey.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks chuckling rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes casting down to his feet, “Oh I’ve made a mess.” He stands in a puddle that he’s created thanks to rain soaked clothes.

“Hold on,” she murmurs and he watches, craning his neck just slightly to watch her as she disappears behind a set of swinging doors, and then she reappears a few plush towels in hand. She settles them on the table, spreading one over a chair motioning for him to sit, which he gratefully does, settling his body onto the cushioned seat taking the other towel she holds out to him rubbing it over his head and face, while she busily mops up the mess on the floor.

“Can I get you anything, something warm maybe? Usually the rain isn’t cold this early on, but there’s a cold snap moving in,” she says gathering the wet towels in her arms smiling at him, and he’s captivated by her warmth.

“Tea would be lovely, Earl Grey if you have it,” he says though he doubts that her collection runs to that and again she withdraws behind those doors leaving him to his thoughts. Time ticks by, and before too long he feels too restless to sit so he stands making his way to the bookshelves that line the walls, his fingers brushing over the spines. The taste ranges from popular titles, to classics; eclectic to self-help.

His fingers instinctively pull one of the books and he runs his hand over the cover a soft smile on his face.

“I didn’t know if you took it with sugar or milk, so I brought out both,” her voice interrupts him and he settles the book back on the shelf turning to where she stands, hands tucked in her back pockets, “So where are you heading?”

“Oh right, uhm, I know I wrote it down somewhere, please tell me I didn’t leave it in that damned car” he rambles as he wrestles the phone from his pocket and pulls up the note that had been typed in the day before, “The Witchcastle Estate.” Then she laughs; a magical sound that elicits a surprising excitement in him.

“You must be mistaken. The Estate is closed for the season,” she says shaking her honey colored hair.

“Oh no, I mean I know, I’m renting one of the cottages,” he mutters shoving the device back into his pocket.

“I see, well, I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name,” she says, and he smiles offering a hand to her and he can’t help but chuckle lowly when she looks at it in curiosity before offering her own, and his idea that he’d find her skin not only soft but deliciously warm are confirmed.

“Thomas, but any woman who brings me a semi-decent cup of tea can call me Tom,” he says shaking her hand happily.

“Well Thomas, I’ll set you up with a ride, enjoy your tea.” She makes it to the counter before he manages to speak again.

“I didn’t catch your name love.”

“Helena,” she answers fading from view.

_“Helena,”_ her name is a whisper as he smiles into his tea.


	3. Unsettled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena's feeling a little uncomfortable...and Benny's trying not to fanboy....too much anyways

**Chapter Three: Unsettled**

_‘Curious is the presence of a stranger that can leave you unsettled.’-Anonymous_

The cell phone is pressed to my ear held between head and shoulder while I rifle through my purse trying to find the bottle of Excedrin that I always keep on hand. The head ache had been inching it’s way in most of the day, and its only escalated from the added stress from my plans for an early close being interrupted by the handsome stranger who sits just on the other side of the doors sipping his tea.

He’s unsettling. I don’t know why, it makes no sense in all reality after all he seems like a perfectly nice man but that doesn’t mean I want him around, soaking through my towels and undoubtedly I’ll have to have the chair cleaned so the water from his rain soaked clothes doesn’t become musty.

Just add another chore to my ever growing list.

“Lena, where are you? We could use some help and Momma Bee is on a tear,” Benny’s voice is tired when he finally answers and with a small sound of triumph my hand finally closes over the bottle I was searching for.

“I know I’m sorry it’s just, something’s come up. Can you do me a favor?” I ask before quickly swallowing a couple of the pills.

“Depends what it is.”

“I need you to come pick up a handsome Englishman from the shop and take him to his car and then to the Estate,” I say settling into the chair at my desk closing my eyes.

“Wait, why did you let a strange man in?” he asks and I groan loudly feeling too on edge from the damn headache insistent on pounding behind my eyes for the fifth degree.

“Because I was busy finishing things up here and I forgot to lock the door, so will you come and get him? I don’t really want to drive with a strange man to his broken down car outside of town,” I say rubbing at my temple, “He could be a serial killer for all I know.”

“Sending me to my possible impending death, I always knew you’d be the death of me Lena.”

“Yes Benny, precisely, now are you coming or what?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen. You owe me Flynn.” And I laugh hanging up the phone tossing it carelessly onto the disorganized mess of my desk.

 

  _ **-XX-**_

 

Fifteen minutes later to the second, my ears come to life from the sound of Benny’s restored sixty-nine Camaro, and after only a second of debate I manage to push to my feet to greet him. The swinging doors snap behind me and I find myself alone; a half empty glass of tea and discarded jacket the only sign of the stranger’s presence.

“Okay Lena, where’s this handsome Englishman I’m here to whisk away?” Benny’s booming voice fills the silence as his frame shadows the door and I shrug my shoulders turning a slow circle.

“He was here I swear,” I mutter running my hands through my hair in confusion.

“Don’t tell me you’re hallucinating gorgeous Englishmen now,” his voice carries a tone of humor and I roll my eyes at him but before I can reply the sound of someone politely clearing their throat pulls at my attention.

The man who introduced himself as Thomas walks down the winding stairs that lead to the upstairs book cove a smile on his lips, and I turn with a smug look on my face only to find Benny staring, eyes widening for a second before shaking his head slowly.

“Sorry I hope I wasn’t intruding by going up there, my curiosity was piqued,” Thomas says as he reaches the bottom step motioning to the bookshelves the curve around the winding staircase, “I was not disappointed, you have quite the collection Helena. I’m Thomas.” His words come out smooth and eloquent as he offers a hand to Benny.

“Benjamin, I’m Benjamin, Benny, you can call me Benny,” and it dawns on me as my friend stumbles over his words and I find the realization sweet laughing just a little as I study the way Benny watches Thomas move to gather his discarded coat from the table.

“Helena thank you for the hospitality, I will never forget it,” Thomas says and I’m so distracted by Benny’s strange behavior that I don’t notice the way he moves in for a hug and instinctively I take a step back causing him to freeze in his steps, and with shame rolling through me I offer my hand instead.

“It was nothing really. Enjoy your time in Witchcastle Thomas,” I say, and he takes my hand a flicker of curiosity flashing through his eyes as he takes my hand in his.

“I’m sure I will.” I watch as they leave, Benny climbing behind the driver’s seat, Thomas folding impossibly long legs into the passenger seat and with what feels like the weight of the world shifting and lifting off of me I turn the lock on the door and draw the shade.

 

  _ **-XX-**_

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

His long fingers drum on his thigh along with the music playing through the impressive system in the classic car, making a mental note to ask who is playing before the end of his journey. He knows the man sitting beside him recognized him. No doubt about it by the flustered speech or the tense atmosphere between them, and deciding to bite the bullet so to speak he clears his throat.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” He asks and he watches as the man beside him tightens his grip on the steering wheel just slightly.

“Yeah,” the word is simple and Tom feels his stomach drop just a little. ‘So much for an anonymous holiday’ he muses to himself. “I won’t go all fan boy though, I promise.”

“It is much appreciated. Your girlfriend, Helena, didn’t seem to recognize me one bit. Not a fan of Marvel is she.” The car swerves just a bit causing Tom to clutch the dash his heart giving a sharp kick in his chest.

“Lena isn’t, I mean we aren’t, she isn’t…I’m gay,” Benny says his voice almost appalled at the mere thought that he and the beautiful woman were romantically involved.

“I’m so sorry, fuck, that’s what happens when I assume, I make a right ass of myself,” he chuckles giving a shake of his head.

“You aren’t the first to think that Lena and I are anything more than friends, you won’t be the last,” Benny assures him and soon the music is all that can be heard.

 

With his bags gathered and a break in the storm, Benny and Tom sit together on the back of the car talking like long lost friends while waiting for the tow truck.

“Seriously though, most of the people here won’t recognize you. Not to say that you aren’t talented, you are, it’s just the closest theater that plays movies from this generation is nearly two hours away,” Benny says his hands motioning as he speaks.

“Wait there isn’t a cinema in town?” Tom asks genuinely skeptical by that proclamation.

“Oh there’s a theater, it just runs to the classics, or the obscure,” Benny muses, “But mostly the classics. The thought being that it’s a tourist destination; if people want to watch movies then they can stay at home and do it. But the classics, now those are movies worth seeing on a big screen.”

“Surely there are children here, young adults, what do they do?” Tom asks his curiosity only seemingly growing at the idea of a town such as the one he’s chosen to stay in for his getaway.

“We play outside here, and I’m sure some will recognize you, those who are lucky enough to have the internet, but for the most part the children are raised in an old fashioned way,” Benny explains and before Tom can press for more information the rumble of the tow truck distracts them both.

 

  _ **-XX-**_

**_Lena’s POV_ **

****

_‘Your neighbor is Loki…’_

The random text message from Benny distracts me from the task of taking inventory and I stare at the screen for a few moments, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

_‘I don’t have a neighbor…’_ I tap out the reply humming along with The Wreckers that plays loudly in the store room.

_‘Thomas, Lena, aka Handsome Englishman, really, keep up…’_ I read the words. Hmm, so that’s why the cottage next to mine was being prepared this morning.

_‘Okay…so Thomas is a Norse god?’_ I smirk tucking the phone under my chin snapping the light off behind me.

_‘He’s Tom Hiddleston…come on, Thor, Avengers, Thor 2….bells ringin’ yet?’_

_‘Never saw them, sorry. See you soon, heading out.’_ I send the message quickly before slipping the phone into my purse.

 

_**-XX-** _

**Tom’s POV**

 

The cottage is quant, almost downright adorable Tom thinks to himself as his feet pass over the cobblestone path leading to the front door and jiggling the keys from his pocket he unlocks it, a clean and crisp scent of linen and rain wafting to greet him as he steps inside closing the door behind him, dropping his bags unceremoniously to the floor.

He’s travel weary and with his fingers working purely off of instinct he unbuttons his shirt, shrugging out of it and leaving a trail of clothes behind him he winds his way to the bedroom dropping face first onto the bed and into oblivion.


	4. Twitchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Early morning dancing ensues with a slight case of spying, neighbor to neighbor, and someone feels a little, twitchy...
> 
> Notes at the bottom...

_**Chapter Four: Twitchy** _

_“Just dance.”-Anonymous_

**_Tom’s POV_ **

****

He’s vaguely aware of his surroundings as music dances through his sleep fogged brain, and with a groan he blinks his eyes open, blurred vision barely making out the numbers on the clock.

_4:45 a.m._

That can’t be right, that’d mean he’d dropped off and slept for a solid nine hours. He stretches slowly until he’s sitting up, noting that he at least managed to remove himself from the half-dried clothes he was in the day before, and with a sigh presses to his feet. He tidies up, collecting the trail of clothes finding the laundry basket placed in the tiny laundry room the perfect place for them until he decides to get around to doing the laundry and padding out to the kitchen he can’t help but smile at the large basket he had missed the night before and crossing to its spot on the kitchen island he plucks the card from the front.

_‘Because we both know the states don’t have proper Earl Grey or biscuits,’-Luke._

It’s nearly quarter after five when he takes the first sip from the steaming cup staring from the kitchen window watching as the sky begins to lighten just slightly despite the patchy gray clouds, and he slowly lifts the glass up catching the upbeat music floating along the air.

Whoever the neighbor is enjoys their hip hop as the bumping bass of _Starships_ greats him, and then he sees her. Honey blonde hair carelessly tied in a messy bun atop her head as she dances, eyes closed hands raised overhead which hitches the long black shirt she wears higher on her thighs, and like a kick to his stomach lust spreads warm.

He’d recognize her anywhere, and soon he finds himself smiling as he takes in her moves, which are not bad to his way of thinking. She knows how to move and that is definitely something he can appreciate. Her body winds and bounces and finally he can’t take it anymore.

“Morning,” he calls, his voice light and he watches humor giving way to worry as her eyes snap open the color draining from her face when she realizes she’s being watched and without a word in return she snaps the shades on the window shut and the music dies.

“Good one Tom, real smooth,” he mutters to himself as he retreats to the bedroom.

 

_**-XX-** _

**Lena’s POV**

Night passed, like most of them do, filled with laughter as I helped with the finishing touches at the Estate and a late dinner with Momma Bee before finding myself home, sleepless and alone. Hours were spent pouring through books, unable to settle on one and finally my phone buzzes.

_4:45 a.m._

I smile gathering my hair tying it up before pressing play on my IPod deciding on my go to morning dance mix to shake away the fatigue. The window is open welcoming in the cool air as I dance forgetting for a little while at least that today is a big day, and forgetting the responsibilities that come with being an adult. Instead I’m transported back to a time where morning dance parties in the tiny kitchen back home with Mom were an everyday occurrence, and the sound of her laughter fills my head.

I battle against the tears, refusing to let them fall. Not today. So I dance it out, losing myself to the moment; spinning and bouncing, arms lifting up.

“Morning,” the voice startles me as my eyes snap open to find Thomas staring from the window of his rented cottage, and suddenly I’m very aware of myself. The long black shirt is enough to cover everything that’s important and yet I feel so exposed. His eyes dance with humor as a smile spreads wide on his face so I do the only thing I can think of, I snap the blinds shut and shut the music off.

“So much for my morning dance party,” I mumble to myself as I head into the bathroom to shower off the worst of the mortification.

 

_**-XX-** _

**Tom’s POV**

He made himself busy with settling in. He made an oath to himself that for the next six months he would not live out of a suitcase, and to be sure of it, once he finished with his shower and dressed in his most comfortable pair of trousers and pullover, he began the task of unpacking. Never before had he found such enjoyment in what most would consider mundane, and before he knew it he was smiling like an absolute idiot as he carefully hung clothes on hangers lining them neatly next to another in the surprisingly spacious closet.

With his thoughts wandering he finds himself thinking of his neighbor, the mysterious Helena who offered him sanctuary in a time of need with surprising warmth and charm but who seemed to shy away from human contact. He recalled the way her body tightened when he leaned in for the hug, every muscle in her seeming to bunch before she offered her hand to him.

His musings are interrupted by a soft knock on the front door, and he wonders who would be calling on him at this time of the morning, and then he wonders if it’s her, here to admonish him on spying on her dance party, and surprisingly he wouldn’t mind it much.

Much to his surprise when he pulls the door open he’s thunderstruck for the second time in less than twenty four hours. The woman’s skin reminds him of the color of coffee, and the light that blooms on her face from the smile she offers him nearly blinds him drawing an equally broad smile from him.

“Well hello,” he says leaning against the door frame.

“I was going to wait to introduce myself until later, but I saw the light on as I was passing, so I didn’t seem any harm in stopping in. I’m Marion Berkley, though most just call me Momma Bee,” the voice is purely feminine and yet holds a power in it that tells him that she commands the attention of all those she speaks too.

“Thomas, but for a woman as beautiful as you it’s Tom,” he says taking her hand in his shaking it softly, and her eyes catch his attention, familiar warm hazel.

“I know, Benny told me all about you last night,” she says at length, and for a second he wonders where this conversation is heading, “I wanted to assure you that your privacy will be respected here. We’re a nice community, but at the core of it we’re a family, and since you only just got in yesterday I am also here to invite you to the Labor Day Gala tonight. It is black tie, but it’s a sight to behold.”

He’s fully prepared to respectfully decline when he see Helena walking down the lane, a black bag crossed over her chest, hair swinging from the high pony tail she’s pulled it back in.

“Oh good morning Helena,” Marion calls and Helena’s footsteps stop as she turns her face up to look in their direction.

“Good morning Momma Bee,” the love is evident in her voice as she speaks to the older woman, “Thomas.”

Her eyes are like ice, so cold in fact he’s almost certain he’s frozen where he stands under her gaze.

“I was just inviting Tom to the gala tonight. I’ll walk in with you,” Marion says turning back to Tom, “It starts at six o’clock. Just give your name to security I’ll be sure that you’re on the list,” and then she leans into him, “She has a fondness for the fireworks so you’ll want to stick around for them.”

With a quick wink she steps down the stairs and links arms with a waiting Helena and Tom can’t help but to watch the women walk away.

 

_**-XX-** _

**_Lena’s POV_ **

****

I walk arm in arm with Momma Bee happy to escort her to the Estate’s back entrance, mind wheeling from the curios mixture of mortification and downright annoyance with Thomas’s presence.

“Was I sensing some, tension, between you and that fine young man?” Momma Bee asks breaking up the silence. She doesn’t miss a thing, my Momma Bee.

“I caught him spying on me this morning,” I mutter stopping while she slides a key into the lock on the wrought iron gate her hands freezing as I realize how that must have sounded.

“What do you mean spying on you?” her voice is hot and protective and I sigh shaking my head.

“That came out wrong; it’s not his fault really. I had the window open after all, and the music up. Anyways, he was watching…” my words trail off because at this point I sound ridiculous.

“Well, I never thought I’d see the day,” she murmurs a grin forming on her lips.

“What?” I ask perplexed by the humor she finds in what I’ve said.

“He’s made you twitchy,” she says laughing that loud glorious laugh of hers and I blush wildly.

“No he hasn’t,” I insist forcing the thought away.

“Oh he has, and what’s wrong with that. You’re a single, successful, beautiful girl, and he’s very handsome,” she says and I roll my eyes to the sky.

“Okay, I’m going to go before little wedding bells start dancing around you head,” I say hugging her quickly before turning towards the parking garage.

“Remember, the caterer will be by at four to pick up, and we’ve an appointment for four forty-five at the salon,” she calls to me and waving her off I shift my thought from embarrassment to business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical suggestion
> 
> Nicki Minaj, Starships (seriously I can't tell you how often I played this song while writing this chapter)


	5. Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gala is upon our dear friends, bringing with it fireworks, of all kinds

**Chapter 5: Fireworks**

_“When you meet someone so different from yourself, in a good way, you don’t even have to kiss to have fireworks go off.”-Lisa Schroeder, I Heart You, You Haunt Me._

The catering van drives away carrying all my carefully and painstakingly constructed desserts, and with a sigh I curse when I glance at the watch on my wrist. I have only a few minutes to meet with Momma Bee and still haven’t locked up. I dash into the kitchen shutting the music off, ignoring the mess promising myself that no matter what state I’m in, first thing in the morning I’ll come in to clean. I gather my black bag tossing it over my shoulder before pressing out into the perfect September afternoon.

People wander, littering the side walk each lost in their own conversations and I offer heartfelt hello’s as my feet quickly carry me to the salon, and I glance through the glass finding Momma Bee standing at the counter talking animatedly with Samantha, our resident hair artist. She is after all the one who managed to get my once thin hair to finally begin growing healthy again, only slightly admonishing me for daring to dye my honey locks black.

“There she is,” Momma Bee claps happily as I step in disposing of my bag on the closest chair.

“Sorry, lost track of time,” I say as she hugs me and with an arm around my shoulders she looks towards Samantha.

“See told you, she’s twitchy,” she proclaims and I groan sliding out from under her hold.

“Are we still on this? You know what, I’m just going to ignore you,” I say playfully looking towards Samantha, “Work some magic won’t you?”

“As always darling,” she says giggling as she leads me to the basin.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

Forty five minutes later I stand before the long ornate mirror in my bedroom turning to the side smoothing the chiffon material of the one shoulder gown that Benny and Momma Bee had convinced me to buy. It seemed a bit much at the time, but now standing in it, feeling like I do, I can see they were right. My hair is curled and pinned to the side so that it cascades over left shoulder, knowing that Samantha once again worked her magic perfectly.

The green material is light and airy, perfect for the humidity that has moved in, and with a glance towards the window I’m thankful that the sky has seen fit to remain mostly clear.

“Knock, knock,” I turn at the sound of Benny’s voice and smile as he stands before me in his suit. He smiles broadly spinning his finger through the air and I indulge him by turning a slow circle, “Wow.”

“I know right, I clean up rather nicely,” I laugh reaching for my clutch, “As do you Mr. Berkley.”

“Why thank you Miss. Flynn, as per Momma Bee’s orders I am to escort you to tonight’s festivities, and you are not to do a single thing but enjoy yourself,” he states tucking my hand in his arm.

“Which I fully intend to do, after I check on the dessert arrangement,” I assure him but he just squeezes my hand.

“No. They are perfect Lena, tonight is just meant to be fun, no work,” he says and I sigh as we begin our walk.

“Fine,” I mutter ignoring the chuckle he lets out knowing I have every intention of checking anyways, and he knows it too.

 

**_-XX-_ **

 

Within an hour the party is in full swing. Music fills the ballroom while people mingle; champagne flowing and I nurse the glass that was pressed into my hands upon my entry. Everyone is happy and in good spirits. I spot the lines of people walking past the silent auction table, noting with a small twinge of pride that even my offering has garnered a few names and bids, satisfied that I was able to sneak a look at the dessert table without Momma Bee being any the wiser.

It never ceases to amaze me how this space can transform, but it was meant to do so I suppose. Tall ceilings, wide glass doors leading to the balcony and garden path, all coming together like a scene from a romance novel, and I smile as Mama Bee dances with Benny, her eyes lit with a love only a mother can experience.

“She tells me you’ve been out of sorts since I’ve been away,” a deep rumbling voice elicits a quick smile as I spin and find Joseph Berkley standing behind me, looking a wonderful mixture between dapper and uncomfortable in his suit, chestnut colored hair tickling the collar of his shirt. At six foot four and built like a redwood, Joseph is a formidable man and as tender as a teddy bear.

“Welcome home,” I murmur allowing myself to be enveloped in his arms as he presses a kiss to my hair.

“Just barely, Marion would have killed me if I missed this,” he says taking my glass from my hands settling it on the closest table to us, before sliding me into the dance.

“She wouldn’t, she loves you too much,” I say pressing my cheek to his broad chest reveling in the way his laughter rumbles inside of him.

“She would. I hated being away, but now that I’ve handed the reigns over to Timothy, I won’t have to leave again for a while,” he says and I smile knowing that it will bring some peace to Mamma Bee knowing her husband will be home instead of busily working away with his freight company, “Now tell me what has my girl out of sorts, or was it twitchy.”

“Oh not you too,” I say peering up at him and he smiles at me before shrugging a broad shoulder.

“Her word not mine. It wouldn’t have anything to do with the man standing just there would it?” he asks, moving us so that my eyes settle upon Thomas who stands talking with an older couple, his head tipping back with a laugh, “So it does. Well, maybe I’ll go and talk to him, feel him out a bit.”

“You’ll do no such thing Joseph Berkley. He’s just, it’s nothing, so please just be on my side in this. Momma Bee has it in her head that he’s made me twitchy which isn’t true, I’ve just been stressed. I told her it would pass after tonight,” the words rush out of me and he grins down at me our movements stopping.

“All right, I’ll be on your side in this, but don’t you dare tell her I said that,” he says and I nod my head smiling as he hugs me close.

 

 

  ** _-XX-_**

**_Tom’s POV_ **

****

The friendly couple who introduced themselves as Mitchell and Mandy Lincoln wander off leaving Tom on his own and he studies the program in his hand, reading about the history of the Witchcastle Labor Day Gala, and how all proceeds from the silent auction go to various charities and smiles. He’s always been fond of charities, feeling as if each one enforces his faith in humanity, and its capacity to think of other’s.

Nothing of real extravagance is offered, not to his way of thinking, and then he reminds himself that this isn’t Hollywood. These things that people are offering are probably things they worked most of their lives for; like the restored Harley Davidson up for auction or a weekend of trusting perfect strangers with a cabin in the woods, and a twinge of guilt courses through him, feeling slightly jaded.

He reigns himself in from outbidding on the whole lot and instead goes down the list carefully in his head. The Harley would be fun, but then he notices that Helena’s name is on the list of items, and he reads the description, and with a slow smile he writes in his bid.

 

The music is lovely as he watches the dance floor, varying degrees of relationships playing out in front of him, and in the center are two very tall men who easily tower over the women with them, one he recognizes as Benny who dances with Marion and in the arms of the other giant is Helena.

Helena in a flowing green gown, honey hair curled and pushed to one shoulder, eyes twinkling with a laughter that curves crimson colored lips. Obviously she isn’t afraid of human contact as she is passed from the nameless giant to Benny, and they laugh together moving from slow dance to upbeat.

He can’t look away, he tries, he knows he should, attention getting drawn to his staring wouldn’t be welcome, but she’s stunning. Her skin glows almost iridescently under the twinkling lights, and he finds himself being drawn towards her one shaky footstep at a time, craving just a closer proximity, wishing almost desperately to be let in on whatever secret seems to be humoring her in this moment.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” a soft voice purrs drawing his attention and he moves his head reluctantly his eyes falling upon a middle aged woman with big hair, lips painted a bubble gum pink, “I’m Clara.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Clara, I’m Thomas.”

 

**_-XX-_**  

**Lena’s POV**

The last thing I want is to sweat myself out of my pretty gown but with as much dancing as I’m doing it’s a very real possibility, but I can’t drag myself from the dance floor and the fun that Benny and I are having.

“Look whose found our temporary resident,” Benny’s voice is low in my ear as I follow his gaze.

Clara Waters, in all her glory hangs off of Thomas, her hand brushing his arm and something stirs in me, a feeling of sympathy. Fresh off her second divorce, Clara is the type who would latch herself to a man like him. I roll my eyes as she laughs in an exaggerated way pushing at her mountain of bottle red hair, stifling my own giggle when Benny feigns gagging, and with a swing of his arm over my shoulder he leads me to the balcony and fresh air.                

 

The crowd has started gathering in varying degrees of standing, sitting, and sprawled across the lush grounds faces lifted to the sky, and I slip away leaving Momma Bee to her men, finding a secluded spot on the balcony overlooking the mass of people. I lean against the stone, shivering just slightly from the coolness of the evening.

“Do you mind if I join you?” a lilting voice asks, and I turn to find Thomas, hands in his pockets watching me, and offer him a small smile.

“No,” I murmur turning in time to watch the first rocket shoot to the sky, and burst in a cascade of color.

 

**_-XX-_**  

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

Marion was right. He didn’t want to miss it. The fireworks just started and rather than watch the bursts and flash of colors that light up the night sky he watches Helena, the way they light her face and reflect in the otherworldly mix of blue and green of her eyes, chest constricting when he sees the tear roll down her cheek.

It’s then he realizes she stands trembling slightly from the chill that's settled in the night air.

He shrugs out of his jacket and being sure to keep his movements and touch light circles it over her shoulders and she turns her face to him offering a haunted and broken smile.

 

_**-XX-** _

**_Marion’s POV_ **

****

She isn’t one to gloat, but she knew it. With her arms wrapped around her two favorite men she searches Helena out, finding her standing on the balcony, Thomas with her; captivated more so with her more than the show.

Yes, she knew it, a Momma’s heart always does, and with the beginnings of this dance between them, she knew her girl just might be okay, more so, if her feeling is right.

And it’s hardly ever wrong.

With a smile full of secrets she turns her attention back to the skies and offers a heartfelt thank you to the woman in the heavens watching over them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the posting ends, for now. I have completed this first part of the series (all 26 chapters) now I will just be waiting to see what all of you lovely readers think, so let me know! 
> 
> -Em


	6. What Goes Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena gets caught staring, Benny asks for a favor, and Thomas saves a certain honey haired shop owner from her porch....
> 
> This chapter contains references to alcohol and contains language that may not be suitable for those apposed to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to just say a quick thank you to those who left kudos for the first five chapters! Shout out to waningcrescent and the three guests, seriously you have no idea how much it means to me or how it made my day!
> 
> -Em

**Chapter Six: What Goes Up**

_“Everything goes up must come down. But there comes a time when not everything that’s down comes up.”-George Burns_

 

**_-XX-_ **

The labor day event is still the buzz about town four days later as I stand behind the counter  counting the till watching Thomas, who sits one foot lazily propped against the opposite knee as he reads, and every once in a while he reaches blindly for his cup of tea. A few times he’s been so engrossed in his book that the cup freezes midway to his lips only to be set down again without a drop drunk.

“Your staring,” Benny murmurs in my ear and I jump dropping the bills in my hand to the floor and on impact they flutter and scatter.

“Jesus Benny, you scared me,” I mutter dropping down in time to see Thomas peer over the pages of a worn copy of Anna Karenina.

“Sorry, but you were staring, like you have been for the last four days,” he states as he kneels beside me helping to gather the mess.

“I was not,” I mutter cursing the blush that creeps into my face. Of course I was, how could I not when all six plus feet of him is here from open to close every day.

“Liar, so when are you going to tell me why I spied his jacket hung over the back of your couch this morning when I stopped in to get my copy of The Return of The King,” he says and I shrug getting back to my feet.

“It’s nothing like that, he loaned it to me the night of the party,” I answer honestly leaving out the part of me that thinks it was an incredibly chivalrous thing for him to do.

“Mmm well I’ll leave that discussion for another time. I come bearing bad news,” his tone shifts as I settle onto my elbows looking up at him, “I won’t be able to go to Timber with you on Saturday.”

“What, why?” I demand trying not to sound petulant.

“I have a date, and you know normally I wouldn’t back out, but John’s only going to be here for a few days this time,” he speaks almost wistfully of his long time and long distance boyfriend, so I wave his words away fixing a smile to my face.

“It’s fine don’t worry over it. Probably for the best, I doubt a twenty seven year old me would recover as quickly from a hangover as eighteen year old me did,” I say and he smile sadly cupping my shoulder under his hand giving a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry Lena.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

He found it odd when on Saturday morning upon his entrance into Nessa’s Nook that there was no sign of Helena, even her scent seems to have evaporated as if overnight. Instead Benny stands behind the counter chatting happily away with a tall woman who holds a child on her hip.

“Morning Tom,” Benny calls out when he’s free and he lifts a hand settling into his favorite spot shrugging out of the light jacket tossing it carelessly onto the seat next to him. Benny comes through the swinging doors and Tom shifts in his seat head tilting in hopes of catching a glimpse of Helena, but there is none.

“She isn’t here,” Benny states simply as he settles the steaming cup in front of him, “She won’t be in, not today.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little crestfallen by the news, but quickly he decides the company of Benny will be enough for today.

“So what is there to do in Witchcastle on a surprisingly sunny September Saturday?” he asks taking the first slow sip of steaming refreshment.

“Well there’s a showing of _The Alaskan_ tonight at The Preview, or if you’d rather you could,” he says shaking his head slowly words trailing off, “Never mind.”

Tom’s curiosity is piqued as he looks across the table at his acquaintance.

“I could what?” he wonders and Benny gives a shy smile.

“You could maybe do me a favor, you see, I was supposed to go with Lena tonight, to Timber, but I had to back out because I have a date tonight. My boyfriend, John, he works back east and this weekend is the only weekend he’ll be in town until his vacation in December. She said she was okay with it, but she really shouldn’t be alone, and any other time I’d choose not to back out on her,” the words rush from the man and now looking closer Thomas can see that the situation has him genuinely feeling bad.

“What’s Timber?”

“A club. Yes, I know shocking that Witchcastle has a club, but it does, an amazing one actually, really draws the weekend crowd.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Oh thank God, thank you so much Tom,” the man throws his arms around him before surging to his feet, “Just one thing…don’t tell Lena that I asked you to do this.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

**Lena’s POV**

The pain comes, not hot like years before, nor is it crushing and overwhelming, it’s more like a warm blanket or seeing a friend after a long absence. My bare back is pressed to the bathroom door as steam billows around me and I can’t bring myself to get to my feet and step through the shower curtain. 

The tears fall with haste as I stare at my hands, arms resting against my raised knees, turning them over so I can study the backs of them and then turning them again to stare at the lines of my palms. I have her hands. I studied them enough as a child to know that the hands that lay before me are hers, only not as strong or soft.

I got a lot from my Mom in the seventeen years that I got to have her. Her laugh, sense of humor, penchant for family. She always wanted a big family, a horde of children. Sadly she had just me, and that’s how it was until this day in September ten years ago.

I close my eyes squeezing them shut until lights and lines burst in the darkness pushing the memories away, and because I can’t just get my damned body to move I curl onto the floor and wait for it to pass.

  _ **-XX-**_

Staring at the ridiculous dress that hangs on the back of my bedroom door I decide to text Benny and tell him that even though just hours before he had convinced me to go solo, I’m going to just stay in and drink myself into oblivion in the peace of my own home.

And stalking from the room I find the cupboards in my kitchen completely bare of liquor. I groan pressing my forehead to the wood.

 

The bag is heavy in my hands as I make my way up the walkway to my front door, arms weighed down by the shopping bags, and setting them down onto the porch I reach in my purse only to find that the chain with my house key is missing.

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl sitting down before upending the contents of my teal bag. This and that spreads on the ground, wallet, cell phone, pens, pad of paper…no keys. No keys. No. Fucking. Keys.

Of course, I laugh at the irony of the situation as I drop my head, and out of the corner of my eye I see the bottle of whipped vodka that peeks out from one of the bags, and with a shrug of my shoulder pull it free, twisting the cap off taking the first of what is hopefully going to be many drinks from the pretty clear blue bottle.

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

His footsteps echo against the cobblestone as he makes his way towards the cottage, his mind working feverishly on how to finagle his way into an invitation to join Helena at Timber this evening, stopping only when he hears the soft giggle that comes from a little way up the lane. His feet quicken and there sitting on the porch of her home she sits dressed in an oversized black t-shirt over blue leggings, feet crossed at the ankles, and he can see that she’s already halfway to drunk.

“Helena?” her name tumbles from his lips in the form of a question and her blue green eyes, blurred and unfocused, land on him, “Are you all right?”

“I locked myself out; don’t suppose you have a spare key or a bottle of vodka on you presently?” Helena asks her eye makeup slightly smudged as she squints up at him.

“I’m sorry but I don’t,” he says motioning wide palms out.

“Not so chival…chiva…what is the damn word I’m looking for?” she asks snapping her fingers as her eyes close.

“Chivalrous?” he offers and she smiles a lightning quick motion that staggers him as her eyes fly open.

“Yes! That’s it…not so chivalrous now are you Mr. Hiddleston?” she asks and he can’t help but laugh and shrug broad shoulders.

“My apologies. Have you tried the windows? The back door maybe,” he asks pushing the sleeves of his jumper up on his arms suddenly very aware of the heat from the shining sun that beats down on him.

“Of course I did, did I? I think so. Maybe. No. Yes. Definitely, no,” she says musing to herself before falling into a fit of giggles that flushes her creamy skin a most appealing rosy hue.

“Well, I’ll be back shortly,” he says giving a shake of his head as he makes his way around the cottage testing the windows finding them all locked snuggly shut, but when he comes to the backdoor he finds it unlocked. He pushes it open and weaves his way through the kitchen trying to ignore the way her scent surrounds him almost coaxing him and igniting want in him, and he flips the front lock opening it only for Helena to fall back against his legs giggling madly as she stares up at him.

 

**_-XX-_**  

**_Lena’s POV_ **

 

I soak my head in the sink, embracing the sense of sobriety that is closing in around me, and I know he stands behind me, hands braced on the island. I had invited him in after all and then proceeded to rush to the bathroom and vomit perfectly good liquor out of my system. Not one of my finer moments.

My hands blindly feel for the knob and when my fingers bump against it I snap the water off dragging in a ragged breath.

“Better?”

He’s humored by this, probably finds this charming, the pathetic American who can’t hold her liquor. I wrap my hair in the towel turning to find him looking at me, a disarming smile on his lips.

“Just peachy,” I mutter pulling the refrigerator open taking a bottle of green tea from the door, “Do you want a drink?”

“Uh, sure,” I pull another out and hand it to him watching as his long fingers open it and he takes a drink.

“Do you make a habit of saving drunk girls from their porches?” I ask his laughter echoing off the walls.

“Can’t say that I do, you would be the first,” he says and I nod my head slowly.

“Well thank you, I don’t do this often, well ever really. The getting drunk thing,” I say and he slides onto one of the stools seemingly making himself at home.

“Not even while you were in Uni?” he asks and shake my head.

“Nope,” the words pops as I put emphasis on the _‘P’_.

“Hmm, well perhaps we should rectify that situation. I have nothing to do and I heard about a place, Timber’s the name, and I’d very much like to visit, but hate the idea of going alone,” his voice is smooth but I can see below the surface.

“Benny asked you for a favor didn’t he?” I ask and his hesitation is only a flicker but enough for me to notice, “Look, Thomas you seem like a nice guy, a really nice guy even, maybe too nice, but I don’t need a stranger looking after me, and I’ll be telling Benny the same thing.”

“Please don’t, okay look, yes he asked me for a favor but in all reality it’s he who did me one in turn. I’ve been in your shop every day this week trying to sum up the courage to ask you on a date and he presented me with the perfect opportunity.”

“I’m sorry Thomas but I’m not looking for a date,” I state walking towards the front door to show him out.

“What are you looking for?” It’s a simple question, not even particularly a bad question, but something about his persistence snaps something inside of me, my slippery hold on control completely diminishing.

“I’m looking to get completely and utterly shit faced okay! I want to get so drunk that I don’t remember my name or which way is up. I want to dance, and just forget!” the words are harsh and they vibrate through the air and all I receive from him is a look of curiosity.

“I’ll gather you at nine o’clock then, I’ll just see my way out,” he says offering that easy grin as he slips past me, “Don’t worry love, you won’t remember which way is up tonight.”


	7. Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas sees just what Timber is all about and learns what happens when Helena and Tequila combine
> 
> This chapter contains references to alcohol and language not suitable for those who oppose it.

**Chapter Seven: Shots**

_‘Like a shot from a gun you’ve gone straight through me.”-Anonymous_

**_-XX-_ **

_‘I’m not wearing the dress…’_ my text goes through as I stare at the short black dress hanging on my bedroom door contemplating, the phone in my hand pinging loudly.

_‘You are going to put on the dress, wear those ‘fuck me’ heels, and dance your ass off-Benny’s orders.’_

I groan, knowing he’s right. It shouldn’t matter that my mysterious, gorgeous neighbor is going with me. It isn’t like it’s a date, so why I’m spending so much time obsessing over what to wear I don’t understand.

_‘Wish you were coming with me…’_

I answer on the first ring pressing the device to my ear.

“I wish I was going with you too Lena…well, partially. Listen, you are going to have a blast tonight, just don’t overthink. Get plastered and dance your ass off,” Benny’s voice is reassuring and soothing pulling a sigh from my lips as I sink onto the bench at the food of my bed, “Now tell me about the hair and makeup for tonight’s festivities.”

 

The nerves flutter in my stomach as I shake my hair back thankful that I managed to tame and coax the waves into a careless mass that reaches the middle of my bare back, tickling my skin, and when the knock sounds on my door the nerves ignite into a full out rush of butterflies that I don’t think I’ve felt since I was in junior high.

And with a steadying breath I cross through the hall and stand in front of the door all the while convincing myself that I have nothing to worry about.

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

He’d settled on his most casual black trousers, a blue button down tucked in at the waist, sleeves rolled to mid-arm. The evening was warm yet, holding desperately onto what Benny referred to as _‘Indian Summer,’_ so he decided against a coat, though he wondered while he waited for Helena to answer, if he should go back and bring one in case it’s much cooler at the end of the night, and just as he begins to retreat the door opens bathing him in light.

Helena stands hands clasped, her mass of honey hair flowing in waves, creamy skin standing in contrast against the black dress that lies just to her knees, and due to the sparkling heels she stands a bit taller than her naturally short stature.

“You’re punctual,” her red lips curve slightly as she reaches for the clutch on the small table before joining him on the porch; he really must thank the contractor of the cottage for it is surely because of him that he has no choice but to stand so close, system reeling as the flowery scent of Helena's perfume dances through his head.

“Are you sure you remembered your key this time?” the words blurt out his lips and before he can wince she flashes a smile at him as she pulls it from her clutch locking the door behind them.

“You’re a funny man Thomas, a funny man indeed.”

 

Timber is a surprising mixture of sleek metal and polished wood. A large dance floor commands attention as the center of attention, billowing white curtains falling from the ceiling serving as the perfect back drop as lights flicker and strobe; large booths and tables ranging from over full and shockingly intimate border the walls; a spiraling stair case leading to a VIP section which at this very moment is housing a bachelorette party. A place like this would be perfect in London, or New York, even L.A, but somehow it seems perfect nestled at the edge Witchcastle.

Tom stands with Helena at the bar watching as she chats with the bartender whose hair stands spiky and he nods winking before sliding a glass to her.

“What’ll it be?” she asks her voice pitching over the music.

“Jameson,” he states and he can’t help but find some humor in the way her eyes flicker with disbelief, but she turns relaying the order to the bartender, and within seconds a tumbler of amber colored liquid is pressed to his hand as she leads him through the crowd.

 

  _ **-XX-**_

**_Lena’s POV_ **

 

The dance floor is full of college students burning off one last weekend of reckless abandon before deserting town and heading in various directions to study, and the few looks of astonishment pointed towards the booth I’m currently occupying have not gone unnoticed. Of course they’d know who he was, Thomas that is, who sits looking so careless as his head bobs in time with the music that plays loudly, long fingers drumming against black leather.

I only wish I did.

The shocking realization of that thought causes me to bobble my Amaretto Sour, fingers shaking so that I have to drop them to my lap.

“Are you all right?” Thomas’s voice weaves its way under the music and I nod clearing my throat.

“Perfect,” I lie. I’m about as far from perfect as humanly possible. My plan for a night full of dancing and drinking deflating at an alarming rate as the black mood begins rolling in.

“I don’t know the protocol here in America is for getting as you said, _‘shitfaced,’_ but I’m guessing it takes more than an Amaretto Sour,” he’s suddenly close, having scooted his impossibly long frame around the table until he sits beside me.

“It does, it involves copious amounts of liquor. Shots, mostly,” I murmur, twirling the silver ring on my middle finger in slow circles, uncomfortable by our closeness and the way that I can’t help but to notice the way his chest lifts and falls as he breathes. Shame and guilt floods my system as I realize that rather than doing what any good person would do in remembrance of a day such as this one I have chosen to don a party dress and _‘fuck me’_ shoes. What does that say of this human’s condition? I groan shaking my head as I pull the clutch to my lap, “I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry.”

 

**_-XX-_ **

 

I seek refuge in the bathroom, hands clutching shining marble my head bowed breathing rapidly. Not here. Not now. Not like this. The cursed anxiety tightens my chest until I’m sure I’m going to pass out from the lack of oxygen.

The reflection staring back is an impeccable mask of  control thanks to the makeup covering the ugly emotions that swirl just under the surface, and I want nothing more than to slam an angry fist into the face that stares at me, to shatter the illusion, to make visible the brokenness inside of me; to call the grief and pain to the forefront and let them sweep me away in their gale force winds.

“Helena,” the voice is a lifesaver being thrown to me, pulling me in from the worst of the storm and I turn a sob finally breaking free from its place locked in my chest.

 

Benny’s fingers massage my scalp as he holds me close. He’s been apologizing over and over again for longer than I can decipher and finally I look up at him, pain marring his face.

“It’s not your fault, and I should be the one apologizing. I ruined your date,” I sniffle and he laughs staring down at me.

“Are you kidding me? John about lost his head when I told him you were here with Tom, he’s undoubtedly putting fan girls around the globe to shame as we speak,” he says brushing his fingers under my eyes.

“Thomas is still here?” I ask perplexed by the having assumed that he sent the text to Benny on his way home deciding to get the hell away from his clearly emotionally unstable neighbor.

“Yeah he’s still here, in fact he was standing just outside the bathroom door when we arrived,” he says and I know what he’s thinking even if he doesn’t say it, “So, what do you say you gather yourself up, we fix that beautiful face of yours, and we go party like she would have wanted?”

He stands unfolding long legs pulling me to my feet and with a final hug I nod letting him lead me to the sink.

 

We arrive to the table finding John and Thomas heads bent towards each other having what seems like a very in depth conversation, undoubtedly about the gallery that John just opened in New York, and when Benny clears his throat they both look up smiling. I slide in taking my seat next to Thomas again and before I can apologize a barback arrives at our table arranging shot glasses in front of us a bottle of Patron nestled in the middle.

“Thanks darling,” Thomas says sliding folded bills into her hand and all I can do is stare as he begins pouring his blue eyes meeting mine, “You did say shots didn’t you?”

 

_**-XX-** _

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

He watched her closely as she tossed back the tequila, it wasn’t his drink of choice, but if it’s what she needed he was all too happy to give it to her. He didn’t know what had upset her so much earlier, what caused her to rush to the ladies room in a flurry of motion but whatever it was seems a fleeting memory as she speaks animatedly with Benny and John, bouncing and clapping in the booth. And he finds himself forcing his fingers to busy themselves with the menial task of tracing a mindless pattern on the material of his trousers as they itch to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Oh I love this song, come dance with me,” Helena’s voice begs as she motions for Benny and John but they’ve suddenly become very preoccupied with one another.

“Tom go dance with the girl,” Benny’s voice calls his attention and when he looks back to offer his dancing skills to her she’s disappeared, floating onto the dance floor, weaving gracefully through the bodies pressed tightly together. His height gives him the advantage as he can see her, arms raised as she dances, her body rolling with the music much like it did that morning he caught her in the middle of her own personal dance party.

“What are you waiting for?” Benny’s voice causes him to jump and he smiles shrugging because in all reality he doesn’t have an answer for him, “She won’t come to you Tom, you have to coax her out of her shell, it’s just her way.” And when he still says nothing and makes no motion of moving he finds himself being pushed from the booth, forced onto the dance floor and giving in.

  ** _-XX-_**

 

He steps around couples, ignoring the groups of girls who stop to stare at him, making his way to Helena.

Her eyes are closed lips curved and he’s compelled to touch her; so he does. A long arm reaching out fingers brushing over the skin of her neck, and her eyes open slowly revealing blue-green eyes glazed from fun and liquor. They widen for a second of course, surprised that it’s him standing before her, and before she can inch away he draws her close, fingers brushing at the bare skin of her back, thankful for the first time in his thirty three years for backless frocks, and he dances. Her body fits snugly against his, her body barely moving as he can see the debate on her face. Worried at the thought that she’s going to find a way to slip from his hold he leans down his lips close to her ear.

“It’s just a dance Helena,” he murmurs and for a tense beat the air seems to thicken between them as she stares at him until finally an arm comes up winding around his neck and they dance.

 

**_-XX-_**  

**_Lena’s POV_ **

 

I’m aware that my steps are wobbly at best as I make my way, arms linked with Thomas, towards our respective homes. My mind is a tequila induced fog and still slightly pounding from the loud music in Timber. The after party is going to begin as soon as Benny and John return from Benny’s, where they’ve gone to collect a few things. Clothes for what is going to be an overnight stay, more booze, music, and movies, the perfect combination for a Saturday night.

“Hand me your key Helena,” Thomas says his voice slightly slurred though I am almost completely positive that he isn’t drunk at all. For his lean build the man knows how to hold his booze. I giggle at the thought as I fish through the clutch producing the shiny silver key ring.

“I had so much fun,” I state leaning against the porch head swimming and when the door is opened he ushers me in remaining outside and I turn looking at him, “Aren’t you coming?”

He looks surprised by the question and with a wild laugh I pull him in shutting the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Recommendation:
> 
> ET by Katy Perry featuring Kanye West


	8. Starting OVer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after has Helena waking to a startling revelation...
> 
> Warning for language and alcohol references

**Chapter Eight: Starting Over**

_“And like sun kissing the sky in the first seconds of the dawn, everything starts over.”-Anonymous_

**_-XX-_**

 

My head pounds ferociously as I peek an eye open only to snap it shut because of the cursed sunlight that streams over my face stomach rolling sickly and having learned one lesson in all this, twenty seven year old me definitely does not handle alcohol as well as eighteen year old me. I groan rolling over only to be met with bare skin and I sit up my spinning head protesting as I recognize the dark red hair that peeks out from under my duvet.

“Oh. My. God,” I stammer stirring my bed partner from sleep and he rolls over offering me a smile.

“Morning love,” Thomas’s voice is gruff and I feel the nausea rolling through me as I scoot away from him.

“Did we, why are you?” my thoughts are jumbled as they tumble from my lips, “Did we have sex?” His laugh is quick and loud followed by both of us groaning loudly.

“We did no such thing, do you remember nothing?” he asks sitting up slowly and I shake my head at him and it’s only then that I realize I’m wearing his shirt from the night before, and thankfully a pair of shorts cover my most intimate of areas.

“All right well allow me to enlighten you, but first do you mind closing the blinds, the light is bloody killing me,” he says seemingly comfortable in the environment of my bedroom as he sits with his back pressed to the wrought iron bars of my head board. I move pulling the shades down and welcoming the darkness, “Hmm where to begin, well what is the last that you remember?”

“We were walking back from Timber,” I mutter sitting delicately on the edge of the bed facing him, everything after the memory of walking arm and arm with him too fuzzy to make out.

“Right okay, so Benny and John came over baring liquor and movies. There was drinking, and dancing, a rousing game of quarters in which you lost miserably. We started watching Bridesmaids when you insisted on talking my ear off, asking terribly personal questions before asking to wear my shirt because you were rather adamant that the color would suit you; which it does. Benny and John fell asleep on the couch and you asked me if I wanted to sleep over because you didn’t want to be alone,” the last of his words trail off and I close my eyes pressing my fingers to my face, “You told me of your Mum. How the only reason you had set out to get piss drunk is because yesterday was ten years since you lost her, and how she’d be happy knowing you were having fun rather than sitting around crying like you had every year before now, and then you cried, which isn’t at all surprising, how someone could hold in so much without simply bursting is beyond me.”

“Stop, please, just stop,” I stammer getting to my feet unsure of who I should be more angry with; myself for divulging so much about myself thanks to my drunken stupor, or him for the way he speaks each word coming out so carelessly, “One drunken night of confession doesn’t suddenly make you an expert on me or my emotions.”

“You said you wanted to be friends,” he says lifting an eye brow at me in an irritatingly attractive way, and I scoff rolling my eyes.

“I was drunk. I think it would be best if we both just forget that last night ever happened and go on our separate ways,” I say getting to my feet moving to the bathroom, “I’ll wash your shirt and return it you. Good bye Thomas.”

 

  _ **-XX-**_

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

 He should have stopped talking, he knew it even as the words spilled from his lips, but he couldn’t. The sight of Helena sleep rumpled after spending a night with her in his arms, sharing secrets and a bed telling him he could be honest with her.

However, the early hour and raging headache did not lead him to being more tactful in his choice of words and seemingly earned him a one way ticket out of her life.

“Shit,” the word is mild as he lets himself out Helena’s home cursing the damn sun as he makes his way to his cottage where he lets himself in and decides that a good head soaking is what he’s in need of to clear away the first gauzy webs of the hangover.

_**-XX-** _

He was well into his second cup of tea when his phone rang and he answered rubbing at the headache pulsing in his temple.

“You’ve been gone a week and all I’ve gotten from you are a few hasty text messages and a rather curious picture mail,” Luke’s voice fills his head and he’s forced to hold the phone away from him hissing between his teeth.

“Hello Luke,” he mutters dropping onto one of the kitchen chairs, “Picture mail, what picture mail?”

“From last night, you titled it ‘My Helena,’ who’s the girl Tom? Please tell me you didn’t shag her, the repercussions…” the man’s voice is muffled and distant as Tom set’s to looking through his sent messages and sure enough there is a picture of him and Helena, her lips pressed teasingly to his cheek while he smiles broadly for the camera.

“Luke who I do or do not shag is none of your damn business, but if you must know, no I didn’t,” he says already growing tired of the conversation. He crosses to the front door, opening it so that fresh air can stream through the suddenly stifling atmosphere.

“It is my business Tom, you can’t afford any type of scandal,” Luke says and after a beat he lets out a breath, “She is a beauty though, tell me about her.”

 

_**-XX-** _

**_Lena’s POV_ **

 

_“You said you wanted to be friends…”_

_“You said you wanted to be friends…”_

_“You said you wanted to be friends…”_

I fold the shirt slowly, tears rolling down my face as the words tumble about in my subconscious. I am a mess. A hot, steaming pile of fucked up. I know he was only meaning to be friendly, and despite my drunken state it was only going to be a matter of time before I unloaded on someone and he just happened to be on the receiving end of that bullet, it isn’t his fault after all that I have the stunted emotional capacity of a two year old.

Looking back with a much clearer mind I can recall the look on his face, one of openness and free of judgment. Obviously he came here looking for something, or trying to get away from something, and from day one I’ve managed to alienate him, which is not something I’d normally subscribe to doing.

He just, startles me.

With a renewed resolve I take the freshly laundered shirt and tuck it under my arm as I make my down my front steps. His door stands propped open, and I stare curiously watching as he paces back and forth a hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He doesn’t notice me as he speaks on the phone pressed to his ear.

“She’s infuriating is what she is. No I don’t think I’ll be spending much time with her, perhaps that’s for the best. Yeah all right, I’ll ring again soon,” his words greet me and I know I should move, leave, retreat, something but my feet are rooted, planted firmly unwilling to move growing acutely aware that I was the topic of his conversation.

“Helena,” my name is a surprise and I blink owlishly at him.

“I just, I was, here’s your shirt,” I manage holding it out to him and he walks towards me slowly, his face worried.

“How much of that did you hear?” he asks, and I swallow suddenly becoming very interested with the chipped black nail polish adorning my fingers.

“Enough. Look I never meant, what I mean is,” I’m rambling, trying to make sense of the quick spurt of panic that is coursing through me, “I’m sorry. I know I’m a mess, and I’ve been less than friendly for the most part and it is nothing personal really, I’m just…”

“A mess,” he says smiling softly, “Why don’t we start over. I’m Thomas Hiddleston, actor, in desperate need of a break and a friend.”

I stare at the hand he holds out to me realizing that what he’s offering is so much more, a proverbial olive branch if you will, and I take it.

“Hi, I’m Helena Flynn, shop owner and hot fucking mess. Welcome to Witchcastle.”


	9. Scarred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions over an upcoming party, family dinner, and music ensue for our Helena and Tom...

**Chapter Nine: Scarred**

_“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”_

_-Khalil Gibran_

 

**_-XX-_ **

As if overnight the leaves have changed, littering the ground and clinging to branches in varying degrees of yellow, orange, and red, and already September is coming close to its end, and with it I’ve settled into an almost lazy routine, undoubtedly brought on from autumn’s cool weather and Thomas’s growing existence in my life.

Most days he occupies a window seat book in hand drowning in whatever story he’s decided to burrow himself into for the moment, and when he isn’t doing that he’s chatting happily with Benny and me, genuinely interested in whatever we have to say, and much to Momma Bee’s delight he’s even managed to snap up a spot at Sunday dinners.

“You’re doing it again,” Benny’s voice is a murmur behind me, “When are you two going to get on with it already?” I roll my eyes swatting him with the dishtowel hanging over my shoulder. If Benny and Momma Bee had their way they’d see me married off to the handsome Englishman, or at the very least confessing my undying love to him, both of which I have no intention of doing, ever.

I like him well enough, and who wouldn’t? A surprising sense of humor and wit lies just under his well-bred and irritatingly classy exterior. Not to mention that he’s cultured, educated, and reads Shakespeare as if the words were written solely for the purpose of tumbling from his lips.

“Get over it Benny,” I mutter as I turn and brace my back to the counter which serves both the purpose of relieving some of the ache and forcing my eyes from that face they seem all too happy to focus on, “It’s never going to happen.”

“What is never going to happen?” Thomas’s voice sounds from behind me and I jump turning to find him smiling down at me.

“Must you always sneak up on people that way, you’re a giant, make some noise when you move,” I tell him shooting a look to Benny silently telling him that if he values his life he’ll restrain from uttering a single word to Thomas about his thoughts, “But if you must know, nothing, nothing is ever going to happen.”

“Twitchy, twitchy,” Benny mutters before making himself scarce, leaving Thomas and I to stand together.

“Now, is there something I can help you with Thomas? Don’t tell me you’ve finished the book already, you only just started it this morning,” I say motioning to the copy of Les Miserables in his hand, and if I said I didn’t find it strangely flattering that he chose it to read only after I told him it was one of my favorites I’d be lying.

“Oh, not yet. I needed to take a break, I was wondering though; this morning on my way over I was stopped by Clara,” his words trail off as I scoff, shaking my head, “What? She’s a perfectly nice woman.”

“What she is Thomas, is anything but a perfectly nice woman, but continue,” I motion him to join me in the kitchen knowing I can leave Benny to see to the speckling of customers who roam the stacks or drink their coffee and teas so that I can check on the status of affairs in the kitchen.

“Alright, well she mentioned something about an upcoming costume party, I was only wondering why you haven’t said a thing about it,” he says leaning on the counter watching me as I tie the apron around my waist.

“I didn’t mention it because it’s not for a month yet, and honestly, I didn’t think it’d be something you were interested in,” I say pulling the pie for tonight’s family dinner from the oven. It had been an unspoken rule between us that his career was something that was spoken very little about, insisting that the focus be on Thomas the person, not his job description.

“And why not? Sounds like a fun time, I suppose living in a place called Witchcastle, Halloween would be a rather big deal,” he states so matter of factly that for a second I forget my very good reasoning behind not telling him about it, “Lena?”

“Huh, oh, right, well isn’t it obvious?” I ask continuing to stare into his bewildered eyes, “Playing dress up and make believe is your job Thomas. You weren’t wrong when you said it’s a big deal here, it is. Come October first the streets will be decorated, and before long the estate will begin its transformation for the big party. It’s rather cliché and yet magical.”

“I can assure you that going through the rigors of wardrobe and enduring hours in a makeup chair is entirely different from pouring oneself into a costume and going to a party, so, am I invited?” he asks and I laugh nodding slowly, “Am I to be your date then?”

“Absolutely not. We can go together, as friends, because that’s what we are, friends,” I say which causes him to throw his head back in a laugh making me wish that I understood what it is that he finds so funny.

 

_**-XX-**_  

 

Momma Bee and Joseph’s house sits pretty as a picture with its red door, twisting ivory climbing the trellis that leads to their walk way, robin’s egg blue shutters standing in contrast to the creamy color of its walls. Trees dot the yard with grass so green and lush it’s undoubtedly the envy of the neighborhood. Thomas walks beside me hands weighed down by the pie he insisted on carrying for me even though I assured him I could do it myself.

The door pulls open revealing Momma Bee relaxed in an oversized Seahawks sweater laying over blue jeans, feet bare as she offers us both a warm smile.

“There you two are,” she hugs me first before seamlessly taking the pie from Thomas offering her cheek which he enthusiastically kisses, “Thomas it’s been days since you’ve managed to pull yourself from Lena’s company to see me, how are you finding your holiday?”

“Better now that Lena has asked me to the Halloween party,” Thomas doesn’t miss a beat as we gather in the kitchen, the scent of Momma Bee’s famous roast beef and potatoes dancing teasingly through the air.

“You’re going to be Lena’s date to the ball?” she asks excitedly as she hands a glass of wine to both of us and I glare at her.

“No he is not,” I say taking the first glorious sip.

“She’s right, I’m her not-a-date, date,” Thomas chuckles and because I don’t relish the idea of sticking around for the conversation presently at hand I excuse myself to the backroom to check the score of the football game.

 

 

“Thank you,” my voice is soft in the crisp night air as I walk with Thomas down our lane, “For coming to dinner on Sunday’s. Momma Bee has taken a shine to you, and I know it means a lot to her.”

“It’s no problem, honestly. In fact it’s a delight, reminds me of dinner’s back home, the noise and warmth,” he says smiling and I sigh knowing that once he lets himself into his cottage I’m going to be left on my own, facing another mind numbing night of sleeplessness.

“I’m going to ask you something, but I ask that you don’t read too much into it and to remember that you are more than welcome to decline,” I say as he watches me the key he fished from his pocket bouncing in his palm, “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

“That would be lovely.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

One drink turns to two, and so on, until before I can figure out how, I find myself sitting in the middle of the living room, my Mom’s old record player playing with 45’s scattered, circling Thomas and I. He reads each sleeve like it’s a great work of literature, soaking in the music. For the most part the songs are relatively unknown to him, and to most. My mom had an eclectic taste in music, but her love for it, much like her love for the written word, rubbed off on me.

“Oh that one won’t play,” I murmur pulling the record from Thomas’s hand turning it over in my hands, “It’s scarred.”

“Scarred?” Thomas’s voice is low and I nod pulling the vinyl from its casing showing him the long jagged line, “I think you mean its scratched love.”

“Scarred, that’s what my Mom would always call it, you see music has a soul, is a soul really,” I murmur turning the shiny black disk in my hands, “A tiny portion of the artist’s soul, or a large piece depending on the song, on the meaning underneath it, and like any good soul does if injured, it scars. A sign of healing really, but inevitably it’s never the same again. I think if I could, I’d find a song to say everything I can’t find the words for. There’s a secret for you. I’m a hopeless music romantic, fanatical really.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

“You never have told me what you studied while in University,” Thomas says from his spot next to me on the floor, where we currently lie having danced ourselves exhausted.

“Double major,” the words huff out of me as I roll onto my side pillowing my head on my arms.

“Double major? Really? In what?” he asks his position mirroring mine eyes curious.

“Comparative Literature and Business,” I say smiling at the look of astonishment on his face.

“Is that right? Their kind of on opposite ends of the spectrum wouldn’t you say?” he asks and I nod a hum in the back of my throat.

“Literature because of my Mom. She loved books. All books. She had her favorites of course, but it changed daily, and she instilled that in me, opened a world to me. Business because, well, I liked the idea of having something of my own.”

“So where does the baking fit in to all this? You make some of the best sweets I’ve ever tasted, was that from her also?” he asks and I smile confirming his thought, “I would have liked to meet her I think.”

“She’d have loved you,” the words tumble from my lips before I can think of stopping them and suddenly our close proximity takes on an intimate atmosphere, so I roll away clearing my throat as I sit on my knees, “What about you? What’s your education Thomas?”

“Oh, this and that,” he answers obviously embarrassed by the question, and I squint my eyes at him, “Nothing special.”

“You do know I could just Google you right,” I say and he claps a large hand over his face, mumbling his words just slightly, “All right you leave me no choice.” I pop up to my feet and cross to my laptop typing his name into the search engine.

“Please don’t,” he begs but it’s too late I’ve already pressed enter, and before my eyes is a plethora of information. I scan the words, impressed by the long list, but the pictures draw my attention and after clicking just through a few I snap it shut, acute embarrassment making me blush, “Well, impressive Mr. Hiddleston.”

“I told you not too,” he groans and I smile shaking my head at him, “Can we please change the subject to something much more interesting?”

“Like what?” I ask settling onto the couch curling my legs under me.

“You. Now, I know Momma Bee is originally from the south, I can hear the twang that still lingers there, but you definitely don’t sound like you’re from here,” he says and I wonder just what else he’s noticed about me.

“Guilty as charged. I’m from the desert. Southern California.”

“Do you mean to tell me, you’re a Cali girl?” his tone is shocked as he rises up to his knees, and I can just picture what he’s imagining.

“I most certainly am not a Cali girl. I did not drive a convertible, nor did I shop in Beverly Hills with a gaggle of girlfriends every weekend. I’m from the desert; I spent my summers swimming, and when I turned fifteen, got a part time job at the mall.”

“No need to get defensive, I know California is not all tits and teeth,” he jokes as I throw a pillow at him.

 

  ** _-XX-_**

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

He found himself pondering if Lena knew just what she was doing to him. If she heard the haunted, reverent tone her silken voice takes on when she speaks of the things that truly matter to her, if she understood the things it stirred within him. His wondering turned to affirmation that she in fact didn’t when she apologizes for indulging, for opening up to him, equating it to one too many glasses of wine than the actual human need for closeness.

She is a wonder to him, warm and affable one second, censored and nearly aloof at another, those things combined with the billion other little things that make her up all coming together, proving a most potent mixture of attraction and desire.

He let himself out of her home after she’d nodded off, hating to move her from where she lay against his shoulder, breathing evenly, but as he tucked the soft beige throw around he was forced to remember the promise he’d made to himself that the next time she woke to him a look of panic and retreat wouldn’t be what greeted him.

So with a glance at the clock in his room he drops onto the bed thinking of all the ways he could show her what he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Recommendation:
> 
> Change My Needs by Scars on 45
> 
> (it played on a loop as I wrote this chapter)


	10. The Sting of Rejection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, angst, and more angst ensue for our potential couple...Helena takes the first slippery step to admitting her feelings and deals with jealousy while Tom becomes the object of someone else's affection....
> 
> Slight sexual innuendo is contained in this chapter with a trickle of adult language

**Chapter Ten: The Sting of Rejection**

_“Placing my head on my knees, I let the irrational tears fall unrestrained. I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was - my dashed hopes, my dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.”-E.L James, Fifty Shades of Grey_

 

**_-XX-_ **

Halloween morning comes and with it the record breaking rain. I smile looking through the window because somehow rain just seems to make the day that much better. Weeks have passed in a blur of busy days, and shared nights of secret swapping with Tom, who insisted that I switch to the shortened version of his name because the full length of it felt too much like he was constantly being reprimanded.

And every morning I wake refreshed, and alone, for my insomnia has seemed to dissipate under the careful watch of a certain Englishman, and every morning I cross to my kitchen and open my window for the nearly ritualistic music hour that happens first thing. It began randomly really, with Tom playing _Coldplay’s Fix You_ a few weeks ago, and has since snow balled into a tit for tat grudge match on who can make who smile the biggest.

I won’t deny the growing tension between us, our friendship blossoming into a flirtation full of accidental brushes of skin and stolen glances, but I continue to deny the fact that I’m on the slippery slope of falling for him. After all, he’ll leave eventually, and sure there will be promises of remaining in contact, but I’ve heard that before, said that before, many times, and don’t relish the sting of that rejection again.

Not from him.

My thoughts have turned from happy to gloomy in what seems like an instant as I cross to my IPod, noting that Tom stands in his kitchen sipping from what I’ve deduced is his favorite tea mug, waiting patiently. He won the music game yesterday, deferring the first round to me, so I press play refusing to make eye contact as the first strains of _Human_ fills the air between our homes as I busy myself with breakfast.

The music ends and I’m left waiting for a response, but silence is all I can hear, stifling, overbearing silence, fearing that he’s tired of our early morning form of communication, and then almost blessedly the poppy music of  _Lean On Me_ fills my ears and I smile turning back to him straight faced.

I’ll be damned if he wins another round after all.

 

**_-XX-_**  

**_Tom’s POV_ **

The weeks spent with Lena have been some of the happiest in his life as far as he could recall, having slipped into an easy rapport with her. One of his favorite things being their music hour. He could tell so much about her from the songs she chose to play from him, which spans just about every genre and generation.

But right now, in this moment, his hormones race through him, punching through him as the breathy voice of Anya Marina’s voice covering _Whatever You Like_ strums through the air. She’d left the kitchen only a second before, dashing to her room to change while the song played which blessedly gave him a second to gather himself, groaning at the growing proof of his need for her in his pants.

This is not what he had expected, in fact it was the furthest thing from it, which only adds to the enticing message he reads from between the lines.

And when Lena returns he lifts the white dishtowel waving it in surrender grinning like a fool when she punches her fists to the air and dances around her kitchen, his own private tiny dancer.

 

He didn’t mind the cliché themed costumes he was convinced to partake in. In fact he found joy in dressing carefully in the distressed and authentic looking tuxedo, fastening the buttons deftly recalling the way Joseph and Momma Bee picked out the costumes for their little group, their family which he had touchingly been included in, from the wide blown glass bowl a couple of Sunday’s before. And donning a long coat he gathers the umbrella from beside the door and heads out into the rain.

He waits for Lena at the bottom of her porch and thanks the heavens that he’s able to keep a slippery hold on his constitution as she steps in front of him. The dress is crimson with black lace that starts at her wrist and ends in a point just under her middle finger. The corset only accenting the shape of her, the material riding low on her chest revealing ample cleavage, looking the part of a very grown up Claudia from Interview with the Vampire, his mouth growing dry as he smiles and she dips into a curtsy, blonde ringlets falling forward.

She beams at him as she steps under the umbrella smoothing her hands over the lapel of his coat.

“Don’t you look dapper this Halloween, Lestat,” the words are light as she smiles at him.

“Naturally,” he murmurs startling her and himself when he reaches up and brushes a long finger over her cheek, “Lena.”

“I’m sorry, whose Lena? Tonight I’m Claudia, bratty vampire,” her words take on a teasing tone as she gazes at him something in her eyes shifting precariously towards wicked, “Shall we go?”

  _ **-XX-**_

**_Lena’s POV_ **

****

The estate has done it again, under the watchful gaze of the party planners and Momma Bee, it’s transformed. The ball room is darkened, thousands of votive candles flickering and dancing while fog swirls and circles. The music is loud and haunting while people in various degrees of dress up mill about, and I stand with Tom, laughing while he quotes Interview with the Vampire perfectly in my ear.

“Well, don’t you two just make a picture,” a sickly sweet voice pierces our conversation, and I turn my attention having to bite the inside of my cheek when I’m met with much more of Clara than I ever wanted to see, poured into a ridiculous leather body suit, eyes glimmering with desperation behind the half mask on her face, trying for and achieving an irritatingly attractive version of Cat Woman, “Hello again Tom.”

“Clara, that is some costume,” Tom says his voice gratifying as his eyes skim over her and I feel my stomach pitch just slightly.

“This old thing? I thought I’d shake off the dust and slip into this little number just for fun. I was wondering if you could do me a favor, and I do hate to ask, but see my friend Missy right over there,” she points turning sideways drawing his gaze and I let out a yelp of surprise unable to move as the sticky punch from the cup in her other hand bleeds through the material of my dress, pooling between my breasts, “Oh I am so sorry. You should go clean that up so the stain doesn’t set, I really am such a klutz.”

“It’s not a problem,” I hiss between my teeth, “I’ll be back.” I look at Tom his face the picture of horrified as I shuffle off cursing Clara for the level she’d stoop to for a measly few minutes alone with Tom.

“Lena, what happened?” Benny asks joining me as I stalk to the bathroom, and pulling him inside with me begin ranting.

“Clara Waters with her stupid super model physique in that gross and revealing leather number that’s what! Stupid bitch is always interfering,” I mutter pressing dampened paper towels to my chest trying to mop up some of the drink, “Seriously, she really just needs to get the hell over herself. Does she not have eyes in that thick albeit empty skull of hers? He isn’t interested in her for fucks sake!”

“And why should it bother you so much, the idea of him possibly being interested? He’s an unattached man; she’s an unattached woman; unless there’s something you wish to share…” Benny’s voice is humored as the trails off.

“Oh shut it Benny, I just don’t like it okay? Clara, she…Tom deserves more, deserves better,” I say and thankfully he shrugs a shoulder and lets the issue drop.

 

Ten minutes later I push back out into the party, leaving Benny to continue his search for the best spot to take pictures to send to John, my eyes scanning the sea of people for any sign of Tom. The dance floor is full, and just in the center I see Tom’s head bobbing along to the music and with a squaring of my shoulders I make my way towards him. I could use a dance session to shake off the lingering anger.

The act plays out in front of me, like a sad scene from a cliché lifetime movie, stomach rolling viciously at the sight.

Clara and Tom dancing together.

Clara snaking leather bound limbs around him.

Clara kissing Tom.

Tom kissing Clara.

Some noise must have escaped me twisting its anguished path under the music because they jump apart, and those eyes, those bright; shock filled blue eyes are on mine.

“Lena!” my name is called in desperation as I step back shaking my head at him  as if the motion could free the memory that has been seared into my psyche, and lifting the skirt of my dress I run.

_**-XX-** _

 

The rain stings; burning with an icy fury against my skin as the breath tears from my constricting dress. I can’t breathe, I try in desperation to drag in air but find my lungs are uncooperative as I run blindly finally kicking off my shoes, not even bothering to stop and gather them.

“Lena, wait!” fingers circle my arm spinning me around and I shove, palms pushing against his broad chest, tearing myself from his betraying grasp.

“Don’t! Don’t you fucking touch me!” I scream taking a trembling step back.

“Helena, please listen to me,” the words are low but firm and I shake my head at him blinking against the rain.

“Save the speech and pathetic excuses, just, don’t,” I stammer turning back around but his hands are on me again, those hands that seemed to have snuck into my thoughts, drifting into my dreams and calling to the forefront of my memory how just hours before I had started yearning to learn what it would be like to feel them on me, “Stop touching me! God, just leave! Leave me alone, get away from me, and stay away! Go back to London, or go to hell, I don’t fucking care, just go!”

I leave him in the rain running away from the mocking voices that chase me; the memory of his lips and hers molded together blinding me.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

Fabric tears and seams pop as I pull myself free from the dress, the lace reduced to strings as I step free of it the breath gasping out of me in ragged and hitching fashion as I storm into the bathroom. I look at myself, hair dripping wet, remnants of my carefully applied makeup a smeared mess trailing down my face, and I shatter, reduced to a sobbing heap on my bathroom floor.

“Lena, oh Lena,” Benny’s voice soothes me but I cower even under his touch, rocking myself back and forth trying to stop the emotions swirling inside of me.

“He managed to sneak in, implanting himself like a parasite under my skin until all of my thoughts were of him,” I cry into my hands, the words so broken I’m sure I’m making no sense at all, “Oh God, what did I do? What did I do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music from this chapter (highly recommended)
> 
> Human (Christina Perri)
> 
> Lean on Me (The Club Nouveau version) 
> 
> Whatever You Like (Anya Marina's cover)
> 
>  
> 
> There's another five chapters. Hopefully the story is picking up some and anyone who stumbles across likes what they read. Feel free to drop a kudo or comment in the box for me.
> 
> -Em


	11. A Lesson in Death and Dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A celebratory weekend is shattered when tragedy strikes, and nobody comes out of it the same.
> 
> WARNING!!! WARNING!!! WARNING!!! This chapter contains violence and assault, if this in any way triggers you or is upsetting than this is not a chapter for you.

**Chapter Eleven: A Lesson in Death and Dying**

_“There is a thin line that separates life from death, but once it's crossed, it becomes as large as an ocean, and so treacherous that it’s impossible to cross back.” –Frederico Chini, The Sea of Forgotten Memories_

 

**_-XX-_ **

Hours pass uncounted as I lay, head pillowed in Benny’s lap, blindly staring at the flickering flames that dance in the fireplace, casting shadows. The throw is draped over me and it smells of him; a fact that cuts so deeply as another tear rolls over the bridge of my nose.

Is it any wonder it smells of him? How many nights were spent on this couch, watching movies and sharing secrets? He’d managed to leave a memory in every inch of my sanctuary. How is that even possible? How can one person come to mean so much in just seven weeks?

My chest hitches as Benny’s hand caresses my arm, trying to rub warmth into me, but it’s useless. I feel nothing except for numb, hollow; broken.

“Honey, I’m sure if you talk to him you’ll see it isn’t what you think,” Benny murmurs but his voice is distant, and because I want to hear nothing, I close my eyes and drop away.

 

_**-XX-** _

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

The rain is a steady torrent, pouring over him, seeping through clothes, numbing his flesh. He’s resolved not to move from her porch until she chooses to speak to him, even if it should mean he risks catching pneumonia.

He doesn’t know how it happened. One moment he was coaxing laugh after laugh from Helena, murmuring dialogue in her ears, and next, he was on the dance floor with Clara, indulging in her request because that’s just how he’s built, never wanting to come across rude. He’d be lying if he said Clara wasn’t attractive, but it was in an overtly obvious way; a try-too-hard way.

A far cry from Helena’s beauty.

She’d looked so betrayed when he pulled away from Clara’s advances, honestly dumbstruck by her forward and bold move, and there she stood, his Lena, heart break blooming and contorting her face, answering the lingering question he’d had about her feelings.

He watches curiously as the rain drops roll from the tips of his fingers only being pulled from his thoughts when the door opens quietly behind him. He shoots to his feet turning only to deflate when he sees Benny’s frame filling the space behind him and not Helena.

Benny’s eyes scan his face and for a second he worries he’s going to be hit by the man.

“You need to give her some space,” Benny states hands shoving into his pockets, “What the fuck happened man?”

“I don’t know, it’s all a jumbled mess,” he says tapping his head.

“Well sitting out here catching your death isn’t going to help anything. Let’s go have a little talk,” Benny prods and with reluctance Tom leads him to his cottage, stealing a glance at Helena’s darkened windows.

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Lena’s POV_ **

 

I work mechanically, limbs and fingers stiff as they roll the dough. I haven’t slept. Every time I’ve attempted the memories are too much, so instead I spent two nights in a row curled on my couch with reruns of I Love Lucy to keep me company, but heart break doesn’t put the brakes on responsibility, which is why I stand at the counter in the kitchen of Nessa’s Nook, finger working more from instinct then intent.

I’m fueled by caffeine and pain as I manage to ignore everything about _him_ , refusing to even think his name, refusing to listen to the music he insists on blaring at me every morning, the same damn song on loop, successfully ruining Lifehouse for me which is a shame because they are one of my favorites.

“Hello,” _his_ voice drifts up to greet me and dropping my gaze I begin pinching dough into the greased pan, concentrating on that rather than on him, “You haven’t slept.”

“Perceptive aren’t we,” the words are choppy as I roll aching shoulders.

“Helena, please,” he halts his movements when my hands slam down on the counter sound echoing around us.

“No. You don’t get to do this okay, you don’t get to play the knight in shining armor, or the prince charming, or any other damn thing. I want nothing from you, no apologies, no heartfelt conversation, nothing. I can handle your presence as my neighbor for the time being, but beyond that I have no desire to have you in my life. Now, if you are a paying customer, I’ll be more than happy to fulfill your orders Mr. Hiddleston,” my voice breaks, and I curse it, curse him and his inability to just back off, “If not, I kindly ask that you leave,”

“I am sorry, so sorry.”

His words hang in the air and when I look up he’s gone, successfully banished from my kitchen much like my life, and with his scent still lingering in the air I lower myself to the ground trying to regain control.

 

_**-XX-**_  

I sling the duffel bag over my shoulder, the idea of a weekend in the city offering the perfect escape. It’s a tradition for Benny and I to spend his birthday in Seattle and I’m not going to let the current state of my emotional affairs come between me, my best friend, and copious amounts of alcohol and shopping.

I glance just once towards _His_ cottage finding it oddly deserted, no sign of him standing in the window watching me as I go. He’d tried countless ways of speaking to me through the week. Letters in my mail box, music playing from his window through mine, and I’ve remained strangely unaffected. He doesn’t want me, and in rejection I’ve learned to reject. He’ll be leaving eventually and all I have to do is ride out the waves until he’s nothing but a smear on my memory, and with that happy thought I toss my bag into the backseat of my Rogue and swear an oath that that is the last I will think of him.

  _ **-XX-**_

 

Snow falls in uncharacteristically large flakes as Benny and I, bundled in our coats, walk arm and arm down the quiet Seattle street, heads still buzzing from liquor and good music.

“John says he has a surprise for me when he comes home for Christmas,” Benny’s voice is slightly slurred and completely infatuated and I giggle pressing closer to him for warmth.

“Aww Benny why couldn’t you be straight? You’d be the perfect man,” I muse garnering a hearty laugh from him.

“And I’m not perfect as I am now?” he shoots in mock disbelief.

“Oh your perfect all right, perfectly fierce and fabulous. You knew just how to take my mind off of Mr. Hot-Gorgeous-Let-Me-Tear-Your-Heart-To-Shreds-Hiddleston, oops, sorry,” I say my voice light as I bump into a body catching myself on the lamppost.

“Well hello there sugar,” the voice has a sudden spurt of fear balling tightly in my stomach as he reaches a hand out grasping my ass.

“Get your hands off of me,” I demand shoving against him but he pulls me closer.

“Feisty, I like it,” his breath washes over me stinking of cheap liquor and stale cigarettes.

“Back off man,” Benny yells his voice booming through the deserted street.

“Or what?” the gun glints under the street light held in a shaking hand and my eyes widen at the sight.

“Oh God,” the words tumble out of me as fear floods my system.

“Hey man, okay we don’t want any trouble. Look, you can have whatever you,” Benny assures him lifting his hands up palms out.

“Oh I’ll have all I want,” the man pulls me harshly against him so that I face Benny, his hands streaking under my pretty blue party dress, fingers pinching the tender skin of my thighs.

“Please, please don’t do this,” I plead against his violating hands, and then the air whooshes out of me as Benny barrels into my would-be assailant knocking me from his hold sending me sailing to the ground and from where I’ve landed on the sidewalk I watch them struggle over the gun.

Shots ring through the air, and Benny stumbles back his hand pressed to his stomach in disbelief before dropping to his knees, slumping against a parked car.

 “Benny, oh God Benny,” I scream scrambling towards him, my hands pressing over his, his blood pumping hot and pooling into the snow.

 “What did you do? What did you do? Oh no, no, no, Benny! Stay with me Benny! You should have just let it happen, oh Benny, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

The pain is searing as stars burst before my eyes and rocking slightly I slump against Benny, eyes wheeling madly as the sound of running footsteps echoes in my head. I’m dazed, shaking my head slowly trying to clear the darkness that is pressing its way in, and with shaking fingers I feel the cut that’s formed just over my right eyebrow.

“Lena…” my name gurgling from Benny’s lips snaps me back into reality and I stare down at him vision swimming as he lifts his fingers to my face.

“Oh Benny, oh God, help!” I scream over the pounding in my head, “Someone please help us!”

“Lena…”

“Shh, Benny, shh, it’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay, you have to be okay,” I cry as I pull him close weeping into hair, “Stay with me Benny, stay with me….”

 

_**-XX-** _

**_Tom’s POV_ **

He stands outside of the cheerfully painted door having wandered all day and being left to feel unsure of where else to go. The note fastened to the window of Nessa’s Nook only said that it’s closed for the weekend.

No explanation.

She’s just gone.

Nothing more spoken between them.

“Well, I was wondering when I’d see your face again,” Momma Bee’s voice is firm as he lifts his face to look at her, “And I see all that I need to, come in Thomas.” Feeling like a chastised child he ducks his head as he passes through into the prettily decorated sitting room, and when she motions for him to sit he does without hesitation, feeling weary to the bones.

“What has you haunting my doorway at this hour?” He doesn’t speak, suddenly unable to find the words, “Let me guess, the mess you’ve found yourself in with our Lena?”

“Yes,” the word is exhaled on a breath he hadn’t realized until that very moment that he was holding as he lifts his hand scrubbing over the stubble that’s growing on his face.

“You know,” Momma Bee begins settling into the deep cushion of the auburn colored arm chair, “When Lena came here, well, she was just a different person then. Lost, lonely, a little broken. Much the same as you when you arrived.”

“I never meant to hurt her, if she’d just listen,” his words trail off when the woman across from him laughs.

“There lies the trouble. Lena’s stubborn. She takes everything at face value; she’s been conditioned to do so. I love her like she’s my own and because of that I’m going to give you a bit of a history lesson. She’ll be pissed when she finds out, but I feel the need to give you some clarity. She was raised by a single mom, her father; he was never in the picture. Left before she was ever brought into this world,” the pain cuts into him, the very idea of how she must have felt from living without a father too much for him to comprehend, “She had a step-daddy of sorts for a spell, but, well he was handsy, are you catching my meaning? He was a mean drunk who knocked her Momma around and her too. Her whole life, she’s lived with the understanding that men will do one of two things, leave her or hurt her.”

“But she has Joseph and Benny…”

“Yes, she does, and they love her to no end but that took time. Her trusting them, loving them, took time. For a year she trembled whenever she was alone with Joseph. And then you happened. You broke through in seven weeks what took my boys months on end to do, and it startled her, made her twitchy. I was enjoying seeing it, seeing her let that guard down. Then Clara happened...”

“Momma Bee…Marion….I assure you, that was a gross misunderstanding.”

“She kissed you Thomas in front of the entire town, no misunderstanding about it. She. Kissed. You. I know that, everyone else knows it; Clara Waters would kiss the devil himself if it meant her name would be on everyone’s lips, but Lena doesn’t know. She doesn’t see that because all she understands is the man she was starting to fall for betrayed her.”

The words mill around his head as he studies his clasped hands.

“What are your intentions with Helena?”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me the first time boy,” she says and he feels the heat crawling up his neck, but before he can respond Joseph fills the room shaken and pale.

“Joey?” Marion’s voice is concerned as he sets the phone onto the end table.

“That was Harborview, there’s been an accident.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Whatever It Takes by Lifehouse 
> 
> I want to say a HUGE thank you to dragoness0420, cloj, waningcrescent, and all the guests for the kudos, and a double thank you to dragoness0420 for also commenting :) I believe I have ironed out a new schedule of posting four chapters a week, but I don't like to set anything in stone, so for now we'll just call it a tentative plan. I hope you all stick with me and enjoy the journey thus far. 
> 
> -EM
> 
> P.S
> 
> If anyone would be interested in following me on tumblr let me know, I plan on posting all things story related (for this story as well the sequel I'm busily working on, and any other works that I might dream up.)


	12. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you help someone in shock and just how far can someone be pushed before they reach their breaking point?

**Chapter Twelve: Break**

_“Nothing and no one is unbreakable.”-Anonymous._

 

**_-XX-_ **

I stare at the blood, Benny’s blood, in varying degrees of red as it dries on my skin, and I wonder; how does one person bleed so much? Granted there’s a lot to him, six feet worth, but still, there was so much blood, too much.

It oozed out of him, turning white snow crimson as I cried over him. Made promises to him. Begged him to hold on.

Everything moved so fast and yet slowly, like I was stuck in between fast forward and pause. The voices rang out in the night, strangers gathering and offering help, and then I was pulled from him being forced into the back of a separate ambulance where lights were shone in my eyes as gauze was pressed to the cut on my face, but I swatted it away, telling them not to touch me, I was fine, it was Benny, Benny’s the one who is in trouble.

So they shut me away in this little room, in the quiet, handing me a set of hospital scrubs as I refused the gown, but I can’t bring myself to change, all I can bring myself to do is stare.

 

**_Tom’s POV_ **

**_-XX-_ **

He wondered how many similar stories he heard both back at home in London and in his travels. Two innocent people enjoying a night on the town, when a nameless faceless entity sweeps in and decides to play God with their lives. Countless times really, in his thirty three years.

The scene had played out like a movie, only there was no one there to call cut.

To reset.

This was real life.

His life.

 

They presented a united front as they rushed through the doors of Harborview Medical Center, he on one side of Momma Bee, Joseph on the other only breaking ranks long enough for Momma Bee to rush to the counter and begin asking after her children, the son she bore and the daughter of her heart.

“Ma’am your son is in surgery, if you follow me I can take you to the waiting room,” the pretty brunette nurse says.

“Helena, what about Helena?” the words burst through his lips, causing her to clack away at the keyboard.

“She’s here in the emergency department, are you family?” she queries and he knows by look on her face that she recognizes him.

“Boyfriend, he’s her boyfriend,” Joseph adlibs and she gives a curt nod pursing her lips as she calls a fellow nurse over.

“Thomas, please,” Momma Bee’s words trail off as he pulls her into a tight hug.

“I’ll go to Helena and find you after,” he assures her and with a sniffle she reigns in her tears taking her husband’s hand, and every step they take carrying them further from him, he offers up a silent prayer.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

He’s lead through weaving halls lined with glass doors with his heart pounding in his chest and then he’s outside of room two twenty six, and when he makes no move to go in the nurse beside him clears her throat lightly.

“She’s in shock,” the voice is a murmur, “She has a laceration above her right eyebrow, it’s bandaged but needs a few stitches. She’s refused medical help, so we put her in the quietest room we have available.”

It takes only a moment for the words to sink in and with a soft thank you he slides the door open slipping inside, and taking a steadying breath he pulls open the curtain.

Her skin is startlingly pale under the blood that cakes it, and the breath he takes is a sharp noise that causes her to stir. Helena’s head lifts slowly and she looks so young and lost with the faraway look in her unfocused eyes. A bruise blooms viciously on her brow and she begins to tremble.

“You’re not real,” her voice is hollow and pained as it echoes around him, “You’re not really here.”

“I’m here Helena,” he tries for reassuring but barely manages over the ball of tears that’s lodged its way in his throat.

“I can’t…I can’t…his blood…it’s every-where,” the words are broken and he places his hands over hers to stop her sudden erratic movements, “It won’t-it won’t come off.”

“Let me help you love.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

He scrubbed her clean, starting with delicate hands that he spent hours on end watching as she has a penchant for talking with wild and excited gestures, then her arms; soft and surprisingly toned under his hands. Then with great care her face, wiping away the smears of blood on her still too pale cheeks, wishing desperately to see the flush of rose that rises to the surface when she’s exerted herself from dancing or laughing too hard at his poor jokes and when she agrees to let him help her change from her soiled dress he reaches shutting the curtain behind them.

He helps her to stand her face pressing into his chest as his arms come around her pulling the tiny zipper down the center of her back and when it slides forward she leans back letting it fall to pool at her feet. Blood is on her stomach and chest and for a second he understands that the pressure of holding Benny in her arms, clutching him to her is what caused the transfer, but she trembles and deciding not to subject her to anymore lukewarm water he gathers the scrub bottoms sitting on the bed.

He kneels feeling her hand come to his shoulder to help her balance as she lifts a foot to put into the fabric and that’s when he sees them, the bruises just below the apex of her thighs, and a sickness rolls through him.

“Helena,” her name is a tortured plea on his lips as she drops her eyes to his pained expression and with a sad shake of her head he traps the rage inside burying it deep as he pulls the material up her legs.

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Lena’s POV_ **

 

I was beyond feeling anything except for acute emptiness so unashamedly I sat and let Thomas clean away the blood, making no noise when he freed me from my dress, uttering not a single syllable when he noticed the bruises. He was incredibly kind and patient convincing me to let them come and stitch the wound on my head, holding my hand through the entire procedure, and when we’re alone again he pulls the chair from the corner positioning it in front of me.

“Helena, can you tell me what happened?” Thomas asks his voice low and even and seconds tick by as I find my fingers interested in circling patterns on the bed.

“We were just walking back to the hotel,” I murmur my heart aching to get it out, to let it go, “He wanted to call a taxi but I told him no, it was snowing; big, fat fluffy flakes and I love when the snow is like that. We were talking, him about John…me ab-about you…I wasn’t paying attention. I bumped into someone, and he-he grabbed me. Benny tried telling him to let me go, but he pulled out the gun.”

My eyes close and it all plays out for me again so fresh, so real.

“He was-his hands, they were,” my hands instinctively slide under my clenched legs, “and then I was falling. Benny knocked us both down, and they began to wrestle. Then _‘pop’_ Benny’s hand is pressed to his stomach as blood begins to poor out of him and he fell, slumped against a car, and I went to him, held him, and talked to him. I screamed, I screamed so loud,” the words are a rush now, a waterfall I can’t stop and I’m rocking as feeling crashes in on me, sensation bursting alive inside of me as tears cascade down my face.

Thomas’s arms come around me silencing my words and quieting the raging storm.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

The intensive care unit is eerily void of voices. The only sounds that I can hear are those made from machines and monitors. I shake as Thomas holds me tight to his side, taking in the sight of Benny lying so still in the bed, a tube secured to his mouth as wires seem to be coming from everywhere covering the white sheet tucked around him in a strange macabre of color. Momma Bee and Joseph sit vigil beside him, heads bent together and I swallow thickly.

Thomas clears his throat and I become unglued when Momma Bee looks over eyes flooding. She comes to me drawing me in, holding me tight and I clutch the back of her shirt simply breaking apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Nightengales by Everett Thomas
> 
> There we have it, the story will pick back up Thursday with installments thirteen and fourteen; and things get really interesting from there. As always I hope any who stumble across my tiny corner of fiction land enjoy, feel free to leave me a comment or kudo in the box, they are seriously amazing! 
> 
> -EM


	13. Graceless Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overheard conversation, best friend revelations, and a kiss to seal the deal.
> 
> Warning! This chapter contains language and angst, oh so much angst!
> 
> P.S
> 
> Thank you to all those who have read and those who have left kudos, it means the world to me!

**Chapter Thirteen: Graceless Heart**

_“And I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I’m going to cut it out, and then restart,”-Florence and the Machine, Shake It Out_

I wake slowly my head aching dully and for a second I can’t remember how I got from the hospital to the hotel room Benny and I were sharing; and then it comes to me.

He’d insisted that I get some rest and drawing from what seems like an infinite pool of compassion he brought me here, tucking me into the bed and sitting with me, his voice a soft murmur lulling me to sleep.

I sit up when I hear the sound of his voice and carefully I slip from the bed padding towards the bathroom. He’s on the phone with someone and I’m hoping that it’s Momma Bee with an update on Benny.

“I am well aware of what it sounds like Luke,” his voice sounds angry and gritty, “Yes well I sure as hell didn’t expect to find myself in this situation either, all I wanted was a quiet holiday. I know you told me not to come, listen to me! I never wanted this, or her, or any damn thing. I have to go, she’ll be waking soon.”

I rush to the bed as silently as I can and settle back in pulling the blanket high and tight around myself. All this time I’ve blamed him for coming into my life and turning everything upside down without for a second thinking of what I’ve brought to the table, of what my simple existence has done to his. My brow furrows painfully against the tears but I will them away damning myself and my graceless heart.

 

**_-XX-_ **

 

I hide my knowledge of the overheard conversation, pushing it to the back of my mind as we sit in Benny’s hospital room keeping silent watch so Momma Bee and Joseph can go to the cafeteria and eat. Not much has changed since we were away overnight other than the tube that was assisting Benny with his breathing being removed which according to the nurses is a good sign.

“Joseph asked me to join him when goes to gather clothes for himself and Momma Bee, if you’d like I can bring you whatever you need,” Thomas’s voice is low and I smile shaking my head. I knew Joseph was going to ask him to go; I was the one who insisted on it.

“That’s okay Thomas, you should go,” I say at length leveling my soft gaze at him, “And stay. This can’t be how you want to spend your holiday.” The words hang between us emotions flickering in a flash over his face and without another word I turn back to Benny.

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

The car is quiet as he rides beside Joseph who looks like he’s aged years in the hours since he first received the phone call. They don’t speak which is fine by him, because on the inside a war is waging; between common sense and reckless abandon. He knows he should pack his things and leave. Remove himself from this impossible situation he’s found himself in; but his heart won’t allow the idea to come to fruition.

He was inexplicably mad for Helena; a fact only driven further into him when his imagination was left to run wild the night before and he entertained the concept of a life without her in it, and found it was one he wanted no part of.

Yet here he sat riding back to his cottage having been rejected. He had begun understanding some of the many layers that make up his Lena thanks to what Momma Bee had told him just the night before, so somewhere under the blow to his ego he comprehended that it wasn’t so much about him as it was her distrust for men in general.

“You think loudly,” Joseph’s voice is like gravel as he looks at Thomas, “Only a man twisted up over a woman can have thoughts that loud. I should confess that Lena asked me to invite you along.”

He lets out a noise, torn somewhere between a chuckle and a curse.

“Of course she did, because heaven forbid she allow herself to feel, even a little bit! She’s damned infuriating is what she is, and I shouldn’t love that or the million other little things I’ve learned about her, but here I am! If I had any sense at all I’d pack my things and be done with the whole matter, but no, I can’t do that either. Fucking woman, I think she’s giving me heart palpitations.”

He hadn’t meant to rant the way he did. The words just poured out of him, and now he sat with the acute awareness that he did indeed rant, wildly, to the man who might as well be Helena’s father; a man who could, should the mood strike him, snap him in two. Instead the man laughs a booming sound that rattles the windows.

“Well, you are in deep then,” Joseph’s words dance on laughter which leaves him feeling even more in the dark on what to do about Helena and his emotions.

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Lena’s POV_ **

**_One Week Later_ **

****

“He’s still here,” I say flipping the page on the magazine that I have propped on the bed, “And okay, yeah, maybe I found it slightly sweet that he chose to come back with Joseph, but now…now it’s just downright irritating. He should be off, enjoying his holiday. He never asked for any of this, for me. I shouldn’t be bitter…I’m not bitter, I refuse to be. I am just so tired of looking at him and his perfect hair, and beautiful eyes, and shining smile.”

“Lena…”Benny’s voice is a croak of sound that has the magazine fluttering to the floor as I stand in shock as his hazel eyes flutter open to scan my face.

“Benny…”his name comes out a whisper, “Oh God you’re awake.” I crumble over him tears of complete disbelief soaking through his gown.

 

The hospital room is full of chattering voices as I sit beside Benny, his hand in mine. He smiles broadly as Momma Bee fusses about, straightening the sheets on the bed.

“Dad can you please take her somewhere, get something to eat. I’d like to talk to Lena, alone,” I’m surprised by his request but happy nonetheless. There are a lot of things I’ve been waiting to say to him since he’s been away, thank you being at the top of the list. I watch as Joseph nods and wrapping an arm around Momma Bee and slapping a hand to Thomas’s shoulder he leads them away.

I settle myself on his bed, one leg tucked under me and the other dangling down.

“Benny…”

“Shut up,” he snaps wincing as he moves to get comfortable, “I’m talking. The first thing I want to say is you better not apologize for what happened, it wasn’t your fault, and I’d do it again a million times.” He knows me so well that it has tears surging to the surface, “Now listen to me Lena, I heard you. Every single word. And I must say for a girl who is so smart you sure are stupid.”

“Excuse me?” I demand as he raises an eyebrow at me.

“You heard me. You are being so stupid! Haven’t you learned anything? Did what happened to us change nothing for you? He loves you! Thomas is in love with you, and you keep rejecting it, rejecting him, throwing it in his face and it has to stop!”

“Ben…” my words are cut off when he lets out a groan of frustration.

“He isn’t your father Helena, he isn’t that piece of shit step-daddy of yours either! My God, how long are you going to punish him for crimes he didn’t commit? How can you be this blind? He loves you!”

“I know that he isn’t them! And you have no right, no right at all to throw that in my face!” I scream at him shoving off the bed my blood boiling inside of me, “And he doesn’t love me!”

“He doesn’t love you, really? He only spent seven weeks getting to know you, breaking through your infuriating wall of Daddy Issues, spent nearly every night with you watching movies and listening to music with you, I mean my God, you guys have the music game, you do remember that don’t you? How you play songs to each other to say everything you can’t bring yourselves to? Do you think just anyone would do that for no reason whatsoever other than their on vacation and looking for a way to pass the time? And you know damn well that the only reason you put him in the same box as all those same men who have hurt you before is because your falling for him too and your terrified, so it’s easier to assume he’s just like them than actually risking it all and putting yourself out there!”

“Well, you just have it all figured out don’t you?” I ask breath hitching in my chest as I stare accusingly at him, “I didn’t realize you were so perceptive Benjamin. And you know what, I may have Daddy issues but at least I’m not in a committed long term relationship with someone and still too scared to move out of Mommy’s house to be with them!”

I tear out of his room and I know everyone is watching, a sea of faces blurring around me as I take the stairs not wanting to wait for or be trapped in the elevator. I run blind, eyes full of tears born of anger as I find myself passing through the courtyard of the medical center. My legs carry me swiftly as my feet crunch over snow, ignoring the speculative voices of the people I dash past.

I run solidly into someone and would have found myself knocked on my ass if their arms didn’t reach out to grab me.

“Helena?” Thomas’s voice is worried as I pull my arm from his grasp chest heaving, “What’s wrong?”

“Everything, everything is wrong! You, you’re wrong! You being here, is wrong! I never planned for you, I never wanted you! And then you just show up, looking devastatingly gorgeous and sweet, soaked from head to toe with that lilting voice of yours, and just flip everything upside down! You injected yourself into every part of my life, and I-I,” the rest of my words slip back down my throat as he pulls me close, his lips covering mine, heat pouring into me flashing so hot it’s a wonder it doesn’t just consume me, and he pulls away, his eyes, darkened by emotion, blaze at me. He doesn’t let me go, just keeps right on holding my face in his hands, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wanted to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Shake It Out by Florence and the Machine (the Glee version works exceptionally well too)
> 
> As always, I hope any who stumble across this story enjoys what they find here.


	14. I Wanted To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a first time for everything....
> 
> WARNING! 
> 
> This chapter contains sex so if that's something you don't like to read you might want to skip this one!

**Chapter Fourteen: I Wanted To**

_“In the silence of the night I have often wished for just a few words of love from one man,”-Judy Garland._

**_-XX-_ **

_I wanted to._

_I wanted to._

_I wanted to._

The words circle my head as we walk together, Thomas’s hand warm on my lower back. I know what’s happening now, I feel it, and the realization has my stomach turning in mad circles. Not a single word is spoken as he holds the door open for me once we reach the hotel we’ve been staying in for the last week, and in the same tense silence he ushers me into the elevator. I press my back into the corner of the tiny space suddenly becoming very interested in the tiled pattern of the floor. It’s a short ride to the third floor and when the door lets out its cheerful _‘ding,’_ announcing our arrival I jump, and he smiles, an ear to ear grin as he takes my hand in his, long fingers lacing with mine.

“Your key love,” Thomas’s voice is in my ear and I stare at him curiously incapable of comprehension.

“What?” I ask so nervously that I step back rapping my elbow lightly on the wall, completely at a loss of how I’m supposed to act with his so close.

“I need your room key,” he says again holding his hand palm up to me.

“Oh right,” I reach in my back pocket and find it empty and sigh closing my eyes, “It’s at the hospital.”

“Well then,” he laughs and with no more elaboration he simply pulls me down to the end of the hall where his room is. He swipes the key through the lock and when it’s open he drags me in with him, and his lips are taking mine again, pressing my back against the door, hands diving into my hair, and he’s everywhere; surrounding me in a cocoon of heat that threatens to scorch me from inside out.

“Do you have any idea?” he asks between fevered kisses, “What you do to me?”

I shake my head in a daze, watching when he pulls his simple blue shirt over his head. I’ve seen him like this before, naked to the waist that is, but somehow this is different. The way his muscles bunch and ripple sending a peculiar warmth from the pit of my stomach to between my legs.

“Thomas, the-there’s something I should tell you,” I stammer as my eyes stay trained on his hands which work at the belt around his waist.

“What’s that love?”

“I uh-I’ve never done this before,” I blurt out and he laughs shaking his head as he tosses the belt onto the floor to join his shirt.

“Sex in a hotel is no different from most other places darling.”

“No, what I mean-what you aren’t understanding is, I’ve never,” the words trail off as he studies me and as soon as the realization dawns in his eyes I feel myself blushing deeply.

“Really? Never? Not even once,” he presses and I groan rolling my eyes.

“Yes really, and no not even once,” I mutter clasping my hands in front of me.

“This does change things,” his tone is soft and the pain I feel is nearly crippling even as the first hot tears burn behind my eyes, “Helena, love, look at me.” I refuse to meet his gaze, only finally submitting because he fits my face between his palms forcing me to, “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

His lips are like silk and taste as sweet as warm honey as they caress mine teasingly. I lay under him, having been divulged of my shirt and jeans. He’s been tender so far, taking great care to set the fire in my veins, and I wonder how a person could feel so much at once without simply drowning from it.

I lift my hands nervously gripping his back, fingers curling instinctively and my nails bite into his skin which warrants a hiss to escape the lips he’s fixed to the tender skin behind my ear.

“I’m sorry,” my hands drop away from him and he chuckles shaking his head against my neck.

“Don’t stop,” he growls shooting a dark thrill through my taut body, so I don’t. I explore; fingers and nails scraping against his skin, discovering all the interesting noises that such a simple act can elicit from him. I grin into his hair when he pants his face planting so that his nose rests against the base of my throat muscles twitching under my dancing fingers over the dip of his back.

“I’m coming undone,” he murmurs to me pressing his lips to my chest an arm slipping under me forcing me to arch against him, his fingers move slowly over the clasp of my bra and slowly he unfastens the hooks, “You’ve gotten into my head, into my system…” The straps begin sliding down my shoulders and before I have the time to even think of being embarrassed he’s freed my breasts and his tongue dances over my skin.

The sensation is unlike any I’ve had before as he teases with both tongue and breath taking each in turn while a hand brushes at the apex of my thighs, and the thought that I wish I had worn something a little more appealing than the simple black boy cut briefs flitters away when he dips a finger in filling me.

“Oh…I see,” the words are a murmur and with a slight chuckle that rumbles from his chest as he kisses his way down my stomach. I thought that was as much sensation as there possibly could be, but he shows me more, his mouth replacing his hand and suddenly I’m shooting into the sky like a rocket or so it seems, and as I start my free fall I’m aware of his weight lifting away.

I’m a mass of trembling limbs when he calls out to me and unfocused eyes flutter open.

“Look at me love, I want to see you,” he murmurs his hands sliding up the inside of my thighs and the breath hitches just slightly as they cross over the healing bruises and I freeze as panic fills me, “Helena.”

“Stop, wait, I just, I need a second,” I murmur my heart pounding against my ribs. I know there’s going to be pain, I may be a virgin but I’m not uneducated about the process.

“We don’t have to do this,” he reassures me and I sigh keeping him where he is, his hands grasping the bed on either side of my head and after a few steadying breathes I open my eyes again and finding a strength and boldness I was unaware I obtained up to this point I arch against him, my lips on his as my hands cup his narrow waist and I open for him.

The pain is a flash of heat that has me crying out as my body adjusts to him.

“Just a second love, just a second, I’m sorry,” he chants in my ear and he’s right, the pain gives way and is soon replaced by a pleasure I’ve never known.

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

He was completely drunk on her, and as his hand gripped the head board he has to use all his strength to reign in the urge to drive into her harder and faster, to push her up and up until watching her fall over the glorious edge. He didn’t have an explicit amount of lovers notched in his proverbial bedpost, but he was no stranger to this particular dance; what was new for him however, was being the first. Something about it thrilled him where before it would have caused him worry.

There seemed to be such a weight in being a woman’s first, in being the one they’d remember for the sum of their lives, and if he were honest it wasn’t really a weight he fancied carrying. Until now. Until Helena.

He watches her, eyes rolling and fluttering closed as her body adjusted to his, groaning in his throat when her fingers dig into his hips and her own twitching instinctively beneath him.

“Oh…” the word is breathy as it moves from her lips to his ears and with it he begins to move, slow and steady, reveling in the tightness that sheaths him.

“Helena,” her name is a plea as she begins to move under him in response, and there he’s found her truth; in the tears that glisten in her eyes, the soul trapped inside of them. He’s found his kindred spirit, and he knows he’s completely losing himself to her, “My Helena.”

“Tom!” she cries his name bowing under him shuddering against him, her teeth latching to his throat shattering him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> I set my playlist on shuffle while writing this chapter, and the song of the night was 
> 
> Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright


	15. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bookstore conversation leads to a revelation and Tom comes back to a surprise.
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> This chapter contains language and sex!

**_Chapter Fifteen: Surprise_ **

_“How ridiculous and how strange to be surprised by anything at anything which happens in life.”-Marcus Aurelius, Meditations._

**_-XX-_ **

****

November approaches it’s end in the blink of an eye and I find myself alone for the first time since Tom and I became, well whatever we are. No label has been put on it which is both unsettling and comforting. I’m free from the stress of trying to be a girlfriend, but left wondering if I’m anything more than a warm body for him to turn to in the middle of the night, and now that he’s taken a meeting in Los Angeles for the weekend, I find myself having to face the ambiguity of our relationship on my own.

Oh how I wish I could just talk to Benny. He’d be able to sort this out for me, I know he would, but it’s been complete radio silence where he’s concerned, both of us too stubborn and hurt to make the first move.

“Good morning dear,” a soft voice calls and I focus on sweet Mrs. Jennings who stands behind the counter a copy of _Dr. Seuss’s Horton Hears A Who_ tucked in her hands, “Some weather we’re having, reminds me of the snow of seventy –two. Say, where is that young man of yours? He sure is a pretty sight to see.”

“He’s in Los Angeles Mrs. Jennings, important meeting,” I murmur with a smile as I ring her up, settling on me elbows because I know she’s looking for conversation.

“Such a shame, you just light up when he’s around, you’re going to have to keep him around Lena, now that Benny’s leaving, you’re going to need some new eye candy for an old bird like me to indulge in,” she says slipping her purchase into her large shoulder bag. The words shock me as I straighten looking at her in confusion.

“What do you mean now that Benny’s leaving?” I ask the words sounding foreign in my mouth.

“Well surely you of all people should know, he’s moving back east with that young man of his come the week after next. I really must be going dear; the grandkids are coming after school to help prepare the tree. You have a Merry Christmas,” she says shuffling slowly towards the door.

 

_**-XX-**_  

 

My feet crunch over snow as I run catching myself every time I slip and I don’t even bother to stop and knock as I slam into Momma Bee’s house.

“Where is he?” I demand my breathing labored as Momma Bee stares at me over her shoulder smiling.

“Upstairs.”

I take the steps two at a time bursting through his bedroom door and Benny jumps from where he stands in his closet.

“We have one stupid fight and you’re going to leave without saying a word to me! I had to find out from Mrs. Jennings that you’re moving! I never meant, what I said-I-I was just so mad, and you really hurt me-oh, Benny,” I cry launching myself at him and he catches me hugging me tight as I cry into his chest.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

We sit side by side hands clasped and with my head on his shoulder the tears have managed to lessen from a torrent to a steady stream.

“What am I going to do without you?” I wonder and he chuckles a melancholy sound as he presses my hand to his lips.

“You’ll be fine, and it isn’t like you won’t ever see me again. I’ll be home for holidays, and there’s always Skype,” he says and I shake my head pulling away to look at him.

“That isn’t the same and you know it. Who’s going to come over in the middle of the night bringing me chocolate and salted caramel corn when I’m on my period? Who is going to marathon Sex and the City with me, or The Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter?” I ask hiccupping over the tears, “Who is going to hold my hand when I insist on watching sad movies knowing I’m going to cry?”

“Tom will,” the words hang in the air and I sigh shaking my head sadly, “You’ve done it haven’t you? You’ve fallen in love.”

I should have known there’s no fooling Benny. He sees everything, no matter how much I try to hide it.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say trying to stem the fresh onslaught of tears, “He’ll be leaving too, eventually.”

“Lena,” he begins to press the matter but when I look at him he stops, understanding that I’ve accepted the inevitable and no amount of talking can make it better for me, not yet at least, “You’re going to be okay, I promise, everything will be just fine.”

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

He's edgy as he sits in the first class holding area waiting for his flight to start boarding. The meeting had gone better than he expected and because of that he was a ball of energy fit to just explode from the need to get home early to surprise Lena and tell her all about it.

Home. To. Lena.

There was a startling revelation. He let out the shaky breath as he hazarded a peek at the thick black watch on his wrist. Twenty more minutes. How could that seem like an eternity?

 

Preparing to taxi down the runway he lifts his phone to turn it off when he sees the text from Luke, and quickly he reads it before his head hits the head rest.

**‘You should know that her picture is everywhere. Every-Damn-Where. Damage control. Call when you land.’**

“Fuck,” the word is short and harsh punching the air around him as he scrubs a hand over his face.

 

“I don’t care what you have to do Luke, fix it,” His voice is tired from lack of sleep and a down right shitty flight; “I don’t want her touched by this do you understand. She’s different, she’s special.”

“What she is Thomas is a pain my ass, ever since you’ve met the girl it’s been one potential career blunder after another,” the other man’s voice sounds in his head only serving to grate against his fraying nerves.

“When I want relationship advice Luke I’ll have you set me up with a shrink. Now, can you fix this or not?” he demands as he sits behind the wheel of Lena’s car which she graciously loaned to him for this particular journey.

“Of course I can. I can fix anything. Listen mate, I’m sorry for giving you the third degree, I just worry after you is all,” Luke’s voice is full of genuine sincerity, and with a sigh Tom’s head falls back his eyes on the clothed roof above him.

“I know, but how about this. You worry after my career, I worry after my heart. I’m going to ring off now, have a bit of journey ahead still. Text me when you’ve figured things out on your end so I can tell Lena.”

“Of course, oh and Tom, drive safe.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

He lets himself into her cottage and setting down his small pack beside the door he smiles at the sight. Helena lies on the couch curled in one of his shirts which on her is so long it brushes above her knees, her hands curled around the pillow beneath her head. He approaches slowly a soft pang of embarrassment filling him when he sees the title menu for _Thor: The Dark World_ looping on the screen. He settles on the coffee table content to just look at her.

She seems so soft in her sleep, her guard completely down as she’s lost in her dreams and the stirring ignites in his belly. He lowers to her side lips brushing over her temple, pushing hair back to tuck behind her ear, and when she doesn’t wake he continues on his quest.

He kisses her slowly, forehead, eyes, the tip of her nose, before finally capturing full lips. She responds slowly, a soft murmur trapped in the back of her throat as his hands snake under the shirt covering her and with a quick gasp he finds her completely naked underneath.

“Were you waiting for me love, wanting me?” his words are raspy as he presses his lips to her ear her legs parting slowly for his hand in response and when his finger slides between the folds of her sex he finds her warm and wet.

“Tom?” his name is a question rolled in her sleep drunken voice, and he smiles hitching the shirt up over her hips.

“Yes love,” he murmurs his tongue dancing over her hip, dipping into her navel.

“Your home,” the simple statement kicks his heart into over drive as he positions his face between her legs and casting eyes upwards he blows a steady stream of air over her, relishing in the way her back arches, “Oh…fuck.”

“Really? You’ve become quiet bold since I’ve been away,” he whispers against her thighs a sense of power seeping into his blood when he feels the muscles begin to tremble, “Did you dream of this My Helena, imagine this when you dressed in nothing but my shirt?”

“Yes,” her answer is short and desperate as her hands clench the cushions of the couch. He pulls her up into a sitting position on his lap, her head lulling slightly as her eyes blink clear the sleep still fogging them.

“Show me.”

  _ **-XX-**_

**_Lena’s POV_ **

_‘Show me…’_

Tom’s words are a happy mixture of demand and plea dancing like a symphony in my head as I take his face between my hands latching my lips to his. I had fallen asleep after crying myself empty, wishing for him, waiting for him, needing him. My fingers dance into his lengthening hair, gripping tightly as I pour my feelings, all of them, into the kiss.

His hands circle my hips pulling me closer to him but I pull away, fingers shaking as I fervently fumble with the buttons of his shirt, and when I free the last one I shove it off of him my teeth scraping over his collar bone, knowing it’s a favorite spot of his.

With my mouth busy exploring all the spots around his neck and chest that make him moan my hands busy themselves between us slowly pulling at the hook of his pants and settling myself further back on his legs I watch him, his eyes bright with need as my hand dips into the material brushing over the material of his boxer briefs. I find him hard and pulsing, a reaction I still find thrilling.

“You seem to have some want of your own Mr. Hiddleston,” I murmur sliding to the floor between his open legs, “Perhaps I can divulge you of some of it.” My tongue dances down his throat and over his chest, over his taut abdomen, dipping below the waist band of his underwear.

“Christ,” he hisses and I smile against his skin. He makes me feel bold, his reaction to my touch driving me and I tug on his pants and with the help of his lifted hips pull them down and off, tossing them carelessly over my shoulder. I stare at the bulge and grow nervous. We’ve slept together dozens of times in the last few weeks, different positions, different places, christening just about every spot of space between our two cottages, but the simple act of a blowjob is still on my to do list.

Only it doesn’t seem so little, not when the length of him springs free from his undergarment, and throwing caution to the wind and embracing the curiosity I press a kiss to the tip, earning a ragged sob. And deciding that I want to know what other noises I can get Tom to make I slip my lips completely over him.

“Sweet Jesus,” his hips roll under me and a feeling of total control washes over me, and I feel powerful knowing its ordinary, plain me invoking this reaction. I lose myself in my ministrations, hands coming up to cup and tease, and remembering the things I researched I circle one hand around his shaft experimenting with different pressures, “Helena…” I stop when I feel his muscles clutch and smiling wickedly I take in the sight.

His head hangs off the back of my couch, chest heaving; a sheen of sweat slicking his skin, and I stand slowly as he lifts his face. I cross my arms over my stomach grasping the hem of his shirt which hangs on me and slowly pull it up and over my head dropping it slowly to the floor. His eyes are intense on mine as I lower myself over him, teasingly rocking my hips, the length of him slipping and sliding between my wet folds.

I moan eyes closing as I continue my slow seduction, and then his arm comes around me lifting me up his throbbing member pressing against my entrance, my eyes closing as I wait for him vibrating with need.

“Look at me Helena,” he commands so sharply that my eyes flash open and he fills me, his jaw clenching tight as he buries himself deep inside, “There you are.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

I lie sated and satisfied on Tom’s chest hands crossed over his steadily beating heart looking up at him.

“How was your trip?” I ask turning my head so that I can watch my fingers circle over his flushed skin.

“It went better than I had expected,” he murmurs his chest rumbling with his voice, “Still have some kinks to work out.”

“I thought we just did…”his laughter is wild when the words tumble from my lips and I smile my heart giving a sweet flutter in my chest at the carefree sound that echoes around me.

“You have a wicked sense of humor when you feel like putting it on,” he says with a hand trailing down my arm his fingers finding mine, “How was your time while I was away.”

“Fine, a little lonely, I went and saw Benny,” I murmur studying the way his fingers brush over my palm.

“Is that right? Well since the town is obviously still standing, am I safe in assuming that it went well?”

“Mhm…he’s leaving,” the confession sounds sad when I hear it and the tears I thought I had cried dry startle awake burning behind my eyes, “Moving back east to be with John.”

“Oh darling I’m so sorry,” he commiserates with me and I sigh rolling away to prop myself up on my elbow to look at him, “When does he leave?”

“Week after next.”

“Before Christmas?” his voice betrays his bafflement and I nod.

“He wants to be there for the holiday,” I mutter trying not to sound too bitter, “So I was thinking.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’d like to do something for him, as a surprise, a going away party maybe,” I contemplate out loud ideas swirling in my head as sleep tickles the back of my mind.

“Of course you would my darling, darling girl,” he murmurs pulling me close, tucking me against him as he pulls the throw from the couch, yawning loudly, “And I will be all too happy to offer my assistance, but for now we will sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> T-Shirt by Shontelle
> 
> Quick Note:
> 
> I would like to thank all those who have read! Crossed the two hundred hit mark and a special thank you to those who have dropped kudos on my corner of the fiction world, that means you DingoesAteMyBaby (mferretti), dragoness0420, cloj, waningcrescent, and all the guests! You seriously make my day so much brighter.
> 
> -EM


	16. Misery Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exchange of words brings to life a side to Helena that even she didn't know she had...
> 
> WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
> 
> This chapter contains language, sexual innuendo, and downright bitchiness. You have been warned.

**Chapter Sixteen: Misery Business**

_“Second chances they don’t ever matter, people never change, once a whore you’re nothing more, I’m sorry, that’ll never change.”-Paramore, Misery Business._

**_-XX-_ **

It took work, endless hours of secret text messages and phone calls which were not easy to manage with Benny suddenly around again all of the time, but somehow between me, Tom, and Momma Bee we managed it. I stand in the door way of Timber, smiling. The club looks entirely different during the day, but still holds the sheen of sophistication that it seems to exude in the dark. The small crew works tirelessly constructing the photo booth in the corner, Momma Bee flutters about straightening table cloths with a clip board in her hands.

“Helena, what are you doing here?” Momma Bee admonishes her eyes landing on me, and I smile lifting a shoulder.

“Just wanted to check on everything,” I murmur crossing to her, “If I’m being honest, I just didn’t want to spend another minute watching Tom and Benny play the WII. He’s created a monster, when I left Tom was busy putting Benny to shame at tennis.”

“And you thought you’d sneak in here and do more for my boy than you already have. Why don’t you go see Samantha, indulge a little?” she asks her arm coming around me.

“I just might do that. Did the DJ get in okay?” I ask and she nods humming in her throat, “And Joseph, is he on his way to get the surprise?”

“Honey everything is taken care of, you need to just take a step back and relax, I absolve you of anymore stress over this party, you have done enough. Now go, get pampered, that’s an order,” she insists pushing me towards the door with a soft swat of the clipboard on my backside.

“Okay, okay I’m going,” I say smiling when she turns and rattles off more commands.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

I listen as Samantha chatters on about the latest development on her favorite television show watching the way she expertly removes the nail polish from my fingers.

“And then he kissed me,” the high pitched giggle of Clara Waters sounds from behind me as the door to the salon rings open, “Tonight I’m going to look so delicious he won’t have a choice but to take me home with him…oh I really must go.” I watch as her eyes meet mine in the mirror hanging on the wall, “Hello Lena, how are you doing? I’m just so excited for this party tonight,” I turn in my seat slowly taking her in.

I can’t put my finger on where exactly along the line I came to truly despise Clara she was nice enough at first. I even felt bad for her when her second marriage went up in flames, but at some point I caught on to her ploys and found them so irritating that she has long been an inside joke between Benny and I. My dislike for her only being pushed to near thermonuclear status when she made the moves on Tom at the Halloween party.

“You do know the party is invitation only, closest friends and family?” I ask as sweetly as possible, and she straightens smiling slowly to reveal perfectly straight bleached white teeth.

“I know, Thomas invited me,” my stomach convulses at her confession. She approaches, heals clicking on tile from her sky high stilettos that have no business being worn on a sleepy December Saturday in the Pacific Northwest, “See?”

She holds her phone up to me and for the second time since she walked in invading my indulgent peace my stomach rolls at recognizing the number.

**_‘Of course you’re invited Clara…’_ **

“I see,” I mutter turning back to Samantha who sits shell shocked eyes scanning between the two of us, and I go completely stiff when I feel her lean in to me, her lips close to my ear.

“He sure does taste good, doesn’t he?”

I snap, whirling on her surging to my feet.

“I’m going to tell you this only one time Clara, stay the fuck away from Tom,” I spit the words at her and she laughs the lazy laugh of condescension that she has mastered

“I wouldn’t worry about me Lena; it isn’t my fault you can’t keep him happy. Tell me, how long do you really think someone like you is going to be able to keep him in line? He needs an equal, and sadly honey,” her words drip with contempt as her gray eyes scan from my toes to my face, “You’re lacking.”

“That’s enough, Clara I want you out,” Samantha interjects, and she laughs a trilling sound as she rolls her eyes, I watch her turn and as she reaches the door she turns and looks at me.

“It really is too bad your best friend is leaving. Thomas will leave you too,” she tsk’s at me, “Face it Lena you’re unlovable.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” the words sound petulant as they tumble from my lips and all I’m left with is chipped black nail polish and Clara’s trill of laughter.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

I kept the façade of happiness in place when I got home and promptly kicked Tom and Benny out, and as soon as they disappeared from sight I do what I do best.

Which is why I find myself in in the closet looking through my clothes for a show stopping dress while Paramore screams through the stereo finding the lyrics of Misery Business strangely apt for my mood; and with a tortured sound in my throat I realize my wardrobe doesn’t run to _‘show-stopping’_ and with a glance at the clock I calculate time in my head and deciding that even though I might be cutting it close I snap the music off, tap out a quick message to Tom, and snatch up my keys.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

Game on, Bitch.

That’s the only thought that crosses my mind when I look at the reflection staring back at me. The short black dress clings to my skin ending high on my thighs, and thanks to the sparkling heels my freshly shaved legs look longer than they really are. My hair falls in soft waves down my back smelling of my favorite apple blossom shampoo and after a quick makeup tutorial and walkthrough with Samantha my eyes pop against smoky eye shadow. I put the finishing touches on my lips, painting the matte red lipstick over them.

I may not be supermodel thin, or airbrushed beautiful but even I have to admit I don’t recognize myself; because under the makeup there seems to glow a fire of conviction, confidence even.

“Lena?” Tom’s voice calls out to me and I scramble nearly tripping myself thanks to my new found height as I make a grab for the long black coat I’ve decided to wear over the dress; after all if I’m going to show Clara that I’m willing to fight dirty I need to make my stand in person with everyone there to witness it, “Love, we’re going to be late.”

“I’ll be out in a second,” I call back shrugging into the coat and as I fasten the last button he appears behind me looking the picture of unconcerned gorgeous; his hair a mix of carefully styled and careless ruffle as he leans against the doorway. He’s wearing the blue sweater with the v that dips just low enough to reveal the delicious hollow of his throat over black trousers and he smiles that heart stopping smile of his.

“Well, don’t you look the picture?” he asks and I blush under his watchful eyes, “What’s under the coat love?”

“You’ll see,” I murmur pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and tenderly I rub my thumb over the spot I just kissed removing the lipstick that transferred to them, “I think you’ll find what's underneath all of this more interesting though.” I brush past him grinning when he lets out a light a curse.

“I think I’ve created a monster.”

If only he knew.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

The crowd is full of happy energy as I approach arm and arm with Benny. It had taken some doing to convince him to take the time to stop packing and get dressed in something other than his sweats; in fact I was reduced to coming precariously close to tears to convince him that I simply wanted to take him to dinner. Now, getting him to put the blindfold on was something else entirely, and finally after begging, cajoling, and stamping my feet he did as I asked.

“Lena really? All this for dinner? I hear other people you know, I must look like an idiot with this damn blindfold on,” Benny rants as I usher him through the doors of Timber. I stand him in the middle of the dance floor waiting with my hand in his as people shuffle in, tables quickly being filled, and with a nod from the back of the room I stand in front of him, knowing that behind me John slips in with Joseph and Momma Bee.

“Benjamin, I’m going to take your blindfold off now, but only if you swear to keep your eyes closed,” I say and when he groans I laugh pulling the blindfold away, “Okay, now let me just put you here.” I move him a smidge to the right and step out of the way, “Now open your eyes.”

The roar of the crowd is damn near deafening as people call out surprise and the look of shock on his face is all I need to see to know that it was all worth it; the stress of sneaking around, the countless text messages, and phone calls, all of it is worth seeing that look of startled joy that turns to disbelief as John gathers him in a hug.

“Wha-how-when?” Benny’s question is a mash up of words.

“Lena,” Momma Bee says tears misting her eyes, and when he looks over at me mouthing a thank you, I’m completely content.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

Twenty minutes later I’m roped into conversation as people drink and eat, and from the corner of my eye I see Clara walk in. Late. Fashionably of course because showing up any other way just wouldn’t be her way. The dress that covers her is flimsy black lace lying over fire engine red silk, her heels adding to her already tall build. Of course she looks stunning.

The bitch.

I watch her and her radar like gaze as she searches the crowd and excusing myself, I make my way towards her target.

Tom stands with a hand in his pocket talking to a small group of men, all enthralled in whatever it is that their discussing, sports probably and when I approach I’ve already begun unbuttoning my coat.

“There she is, my sweet Helena, aren’t you warm in that?” Tom asks pointing to my coat and I nod turning my back to him.

“Would you mind?” I ask and lifting my eyes slowly I stare at Clara who watches with a look of distain on her face as I open my coat and slip my arms from its sleeves. I hear the whistle of approval sound from behind me and with a sarcastic smile and arch of my brow for my opponent I turn and look at Tom.

“Wow,” the word is short and simple as his eyes drink me in, and with the words of Misery Business playing in my head like an anthem, I pull him to me and kiss him. There are a few cat calls and a resounding _‘aww,’_ before I pull away. His blue eyes open slowly, dreamily, “Well, that’s something now isn’t it?”

“You’ve seen nothing yet,” I promise him leaving him to pick up the scattered remnants of his conversation, moving to brush past Clara who looks downright indignant with fury stopping just for a second when I’m shoulder to shoulder with her, “I hate to brag, but God, it feels so good.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

“What was that?” Benny asks finding me in a darkened corner catching my breath as I sip from a glass of wine.

“What do you mean?” I ask and he levels his gaze at me.

“I mean that pissing contest between you and Clara. This wouldn’t have anything to do with her causing that scene in Samantha’s earlier today would it?” he asks and I roll my eyes swirling the red liquid in my glass.

“I’m not even going to ask how you know about that,” I say setting the glass down smoothing my hands over my dress, “And so what if it was. Made my point didn’t it?”

“I’d say you made it loud and clear, I think Tom is still trying to pick his tongue up off the floor,” he says and I chuckle shrugging a shoulder, “Please tell me you have something more appreciative under that dress than your usual boring panties.”

“Believe me what’s under here is anything but boring,” I assure him and he laughs slinging an arm over my shoulders.

“Finally you’re learning,” he says leading me onto the quickly filling dance floor, “Now let’s party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Misery Business by Paramore (was the title dreadfully obvious? Oh well it is what it is) 
> 
> Quick Note: 
> 
> Two more chapters will be posted on Wednesday at some point, and after that there will be a bit of a break since I will be away on vacation for a week starting Thursday. So as always, I hope all those who stumble across my little corner of fiction world enjoy their stay, feel free to leave a kudo or two, even a comment if the mood strikes you. I thrive off them.
> 
> -EM


	17. Heart In Your Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surprise party holds surprises for more than just Benny, and a little definition is given for a flailing Helena
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> This chapter does contain language and one hell of a cat fight.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_Chapter Seventeen: Heart in Your Hands_ **

_“And with hope in her eyes she placed her heart in his hands and believed he would know what to do.”-Anonymous._

**_-XX-_ **

There’s a break in the music as everyone settles down, and I stand center of attention, smiling.

“I want to take a moment and just thank everyone who worked with me, tirelessly, to pull this off,” I say and there’s a thunderous round of applause, “I can honestly say that I don’t ever want to throw another surprise party again in my life, I think I gave myself an ulcer from all the secrets and sneaking around, but that isn’t what we’re here to celebrate. We are here to celebrate Benny Berkley.”

I scan the faces and find him sitting with his arm around John smiling broadly as everyone claps loudly.

“Benny is my best friend, as simple and complicated as that. He has taught me so much in the time I’ve known him. He is the most open, accepting, nonjudgmental individual that I know and I have the great pleasure of calling him mine, sorry John, but you will always have to share him with me, no matter how far away you take him. So, without further ado I am going to stop talking now and let the show go on, but first I just want to say, Benny, I love you from the bottom of my heart and to the moon and back.”

I hand the microphone to the DJ and take my spot next to Tom who smiles as he wraps an arm around my waist. The screen slides down from the ceiling and soon Benny’s face fills it. I watch as years of snapshots flit across the scene upbeat music playing in the background. I laugh as some of the pictures recall happy memories, like the snapshot Momma Bee took when she found us in my flour covered kitchen having just engaged in a baking war; Benny and Joseph standing side by side after a pickup game of street football two summers ago, and when the last picture fades the screen to black I have to brush a tear from the corner of my eye.

Benny stands, lips quivering into a smile as he looks around the room and then, to my surprise the lights dim, soft music filling the space. John steps up behind him and with my heart welling he drops to his knee.

“Oh my God,” I murmur my hand finding Tom’s.

“Benjamin Michael Berkley, you are my best friend and the love of my life; will you please make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” John’s voice fills the air and when Benjamin nods throwing his arms around the love of his life I begin to cry.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

The energy buzzes electric as the music kicks back up and people flutter around talking and dancing. I hug Benny close, murmuring my congratulations to him, and when he presses his lips to my hair I know I won’t have to worry after him. He’ll be just fine and I can’t be any happier.

“Where’s Tom?” Benny asks and I look around perplexed.

“Good question, he was just with me in the photo booth,” I look around confused since I can’t make him out of the crowd.

“Benny! Congrats doll,” Clara’s voice fills my head and I turn in time to be pushed back a step as she throws her arms around him, and he looks at me confusion flitting over his face as he lightly pats her back before pulling away from her suffocating hold.

“Thanks Clara, funny seeing you here.”

“I know right, my invitation must have gotten lost in translation, but that’s okay, Thomas saw to personally inviting me, isn’t that right Lena? Can I just say that dress is just, something? I never imagined what so little material would look like on a larger frame,” Clara says and my blood begins its slow simmer, “Now I know.” She’s always managed to make me feel huge compared to her willowy frame and right now is no different. The niggling doubt starts to work its way furiously from the back of my mind, self-consciousness threatening to consume me.

“Really Clara? Fat jokes, at this point in life? Are we in high school again? We must be seeing as how that’s the only feasible explanation for that little number you’re wearing; only I thought they closed Whore Barn years ago. Guess I was wrong, now I know. If you’ll excuse me, I really must find my date,” I say turning to leave but she calls after me.

“Does it bother you when you kiss him, remembering that I was there first?” I hear nothing but the sound of static in my ears as I turn slowly to look at her, “I mean, it must, why else would poor, sad, pathetic Lena suddenly find the gumption to be anything but her usual boring self? Do I really threaten you so much? Obviously I do, I mean come on, why would he settle for someone as plain as you when he can have someone who can not only meet him at his own level, but help him rise to much higher aspirations.”

It’s instinctual and primal the way my hand reaches for the closest glass, and without a sound I toss its contents in her face. There’s a collective gasp as she stands lifting a carefully manicured hand to wipe at her dripping face.

“You stupid bitch,” she lunges at me and before I can react her hand connects with my face and sends me sprawling the palms of my hands catching the brunt of my weight.

My bones are jarred from the impact and for a second the breath in my lungs is knocked out, and then we’re wrestling on the floor, rolling over each other and I ignore the stinging bite of her nails as they dig into my shoulders, and because it’s the only thing I can think to do, I bite the hand that digs into my skin. She lets out a shocked scream and then she’s lifted off of me and I’m helped to my feet by John, who carefully pulls my dress down from where it's hiked up higher than I care to think about.

I brush myself off acutely aware of everyone’s gaze trained to where Clara and I stand facing each other. Her dress is torn at the shoulder, black lace hanging sadly as tears of humiliation roll in big drops down her face, and she looks sad and broken, a mirror to what I feel inside.

“Helena?” Tom’s voice fills my head as he pushes through the crowd, and I just stare at his questioning gaze, and without a word I take a shaky step back, ignoring my stinging palms, and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, “Helena!”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

I stand in the bathroom of Nessa’s Nook dabbing a paper towel to the corner of my mouth feeling foolish. Letting someone like Clara get to me, driving me to stoop to her level is exactly what she wanted and I played right into her trap, and for what? For a man who I’m on such shaky ground with that most of the time I don’t know which was is up and down? I groan dropping my head as I grasp the sink.

“Should I hazard a guess as to what that was back there?” Tom’s voice fills the tiny space and I lift my head slowly to see him behind me, his face concerned.

“Which part confused you?” I ask turning to brace my back against the sink, his head tipping slightly to the right as he takes in my appearance, “The eloquent and lively debate over wardrobe choices I partook in with Clara or the high school bitch fight in the middle of the dance floor?”

“Both really,” he murmurs and with a sigh I drop onto the seat of the toilet dropping my head into my hands.

“Clara just-she knows how to get to me, it’s ridiculous really, and completely unreasonable, but the things she was saying,” my voice trails off as the adrenaline begins to flow away, pain settling in both physically and emotionally, “It’s just complete shit. First the things she was saying earlier today at Samantha’s, and then her dig about my weight…”

“She had a go at you about your weight? What for, it’s perfect,” he says and I shake my head sadly not daring to look at him.

“Not so perfect compared to all hundred and five pounds of her,” I mutter, “And then she was talking about you, and how it must bother me to think that she kissed you first…which just circles viciously in my head. This, this isn’t me. I don’t fight, period, and when or if I do, it’s never over a man. Over music definitely, the best candy in the world possibly, but over a man, never.”

“You don’t have to fight for me love,” he murmurs kneeling in front of me, his hands coming to rest on my thighs, “I’m sorry you felt the need to do so and got hurt in the process.”

“Why did you invite her?” the question I swore I wasn’t going to ask blurts from my lips and he sighs lifting his shoulders in a shrug, “I think that’s what set me off more than anything else, seeing your number in her phone…”

“Back in October, before the Halloween party we exchanged numbers,” he says and I feel myself straightening up at this revelation, “Not for what you think. She stopped me when I was on my run one morning and we started talking. She offered to show me around and talk about the history of the estate. You and I were just starting to get know each other and I didn’t see the harm. A week ago or so she texted me out of the blue, saying she heard about the party and was hurt that she wasn’t invited. It’s ingrained in me to be nice and the thought of her feelings being hurt, of anyone’s feelings being hurt, just bothers me.”

“Okay,” the words are hollow even to my ears as I say them.

“Okay? That’s it? No demanding that I text her and make it perfectly clear that she doesn’t have a chance in hell and to never text me again?” he asks and I shake my head at him.

“I’m not your mother Tom, I’m-well I don’t know what I am…it isn’t my place to tell you who you can or cannot talk to,” I say getting to my feet and when he stands I wait patiently for him to let me get past him.

“Lena, you have to know,” he says taking my hand in his before I can exit the suddenly stifling space we’re occupying.

“Know what?”

“What you are to me, what this is,” he says motioning between the two of us.

“I should, but I don’t, and maybe that’s all for the best.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

I wander the stacks fingers brushing over the spines of the books knowing he watches me. My body aches, but I’m not ready to go home yet and I’m too embarrassed to go back to the party, so I lose myself in the books, each title dancing out to me tickling memories awake in my head. I’ve read almost every title and consider each one a friend.

“Which is your favorite?” Tom’s voice fills the silence and I stop, humming in the back of my throat as I cast my eyes to him.

“That’s easy,” I say walking to the third case back lifting a dusty leather bound title from the shelf. He approaches peering over my shoulder.

“Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales,” he murmurs long fingers brushing over the cover.

“Mhm, they were my Mom’s favorite and she would read this to me every night when I was little,” I murmur smiling, “It was like a movie playing in my head.”

“Well, that tells me what your Mum’s favorite was, but I asked what yours is,” he says and I blush. He’s too smart and perceptive for his own damn good.

“I’ll show you, come on,” I say and I take his hand leading him up the curving stairs leading to the next level. When we reach the top I release my hold on him and circle the room pushing to my tip toes for the very top shelf. I find the book. A simple and plain old thing really, written some fifty years ago, and with a smile I settle on the couch legs curled under me body turned towards him. The black leather lies on my thighs and I place a hand on the cover, “This book is what made me fall in love with Witchcastle. I found it in the University Library and this is actually why I ended up coming here for spring break that year.”

I hand it to him and watch the way his eyes scan the title.

“The Witchcastle Truth; An Incomplete Fairy Tale,” he says smiling, “I wouldn’t have taken you for a fairy tale kind of person.”

“What girl isn’t really? Anyways, what did Clara tell you about the history of Witchcastle?”

“Nothing I didn’t read online for myself really,” he murmurs tensely and I nod my head, “Witchcastle was founded in the mid eighteen hundreds by William Witchcastle, a logging tycoon. He built the estate for his family, a feat that took nearly ten years to complete.”

“Read it,” I murmur motioning to the book, “There is so much more to it than that.”

 

**_Tom’s POV_ **

**_-XX-_ **

 

He was mad for her. Of that he was certain when he watched after her, disheveled and limping from the crowd. He found it easy to ignore Clara’s wails of indignation when he followed Helena from the party, and when he found her in the bathroom of her shop he felt a peculiar stroke to his ego.

She looked like a pint sized warrior dabbing at her bloody lip. He recalled that memory easily. He also hated the sound of defeat that hung in her voice when she conveyed her less than stellar run in’s with Clara, and in disbelief he listened as she explained how she took the blows to her self-esteem, all on account of him.

But right now with her favorite book laying in his open palms he felt things becoming incredibly more intimate between them; despite the fact that he’s seen her body naked and twisted in many different and interesting positions.

He was holding her heart and she finally trusted him not to make a mess of it all.

“Helena,” he calls after her as she begins her descent down the stairs, and he waits for her to look back at him.

“Hmm,” her voice is soft as she waits for him to finish his thought and standing he tucks the book in his back pocket, crossing to her, his hands cupping her face. Her skin is luminous under the dim lights of the shop, and tenderly he presses his lips to her forehead.

“You said before that you didn’t know what we are, what we’re doing,” he says taking care not to touch the scratches that ride high on her shoulder as he brushes the hair from her face, hating that her skin has already begun to darken with bruises, “Believe me when I say, whatever it is, is the most important thing I’ve done in my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Unpretty/I Feel Pretty mashup by Glee (seriously it fit this so well)
> 
> A BIG thank you to all the new kudo droppers! sweetsgal, DingoesAteMyBaby (mferretti), dragoness0420,cloj, waningcrescent, and all the guests! A HUGE thank you to all the subscribers too!


	18. The Freedom of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom tries to help our heroine through a spot of heartache and seemingly creates an even worse disaster...
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> This chapter contains language and alcohol consumption.

**_Chapter Eighteen: The Freedom of Truth_ **

_“The truth will set you free but first it will piss you off.”-Gloria Steinum_

**_-XX-_ **

“There she is the feather weight champion of Witchcastle herself!” Joseph’s booming voice fills the cold predawn air as Tom and I push out of the car, “How you feeling slugger?” I smile shaking my head as he pulls me in for a hug.

“Sore, tired, and incredibly embarrassed,” I say letting myself be led into the warm house where Momma Bee sits holding onto Benny tightly.

“You shouldn’t be, it was only a matter of time before someone put Clara in her place, I am just so damn proud that it was my little girl,” he says laughing wildly as he presses a kiss to my hair, “I’m going to get coffee. Tom, how about you give me a hand.”

“And you better promise me that you will call the moment you and John arrive,” Momma Bee has her _‘Mom’_ voice on and I smile as Benny rolls his eyes patting her hand which clutches his.

“Of course I will Mom, I promise, now can you leave me and Lena alone for a minute, I need to talk to her,” he says and with a sniffle she nods and presses to her feet. She stops in front of me and smiles despite her tears and cups my face.

“You did good last night little bird,” she murmurs to me in a low voice as her fingers brush the bruise at the corner of my mouth, and I know by her use of the nickname she reserves for those she loves the most that she’s feeling sentimental, “Next time, bite harder.” I laugh after her shaking my head and then Benny is patting the spot next to him on the couch.

I settle down next to him easily fitting myself under his arm, and for a moment we’re just quiet.

“I’m sorry for ruining your party last night,” I finally say at length and he laughs long and loud.

“You didn’t ruin a thing Lena; in fact I’d say that little show made the night even better. People were drinking in your honor until well after two this morning,” he says and I chuckle, “I never did get the chance to thank you for what you did, it meant the world to me.”

“You don’t have to thank me Benny.”

“But I do. Mom explained to me how hard you worked on everything, and you helped John fly in without me knowing,” he says and I smile fighting a battle of wills with my welling emotions, “I will never be able to thank you enough for being my best friend Lena. No, listen, we have literally been through some of the best and worst times together, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit scared to take this next step knowing you aren’t going to be right there with me.”

“I’ll be there with you Benny, it’s like you said, you’ll be here to visit as often as possible right? And we have Skype…besides, who else is going to be the best man at the wedding?” the words trail off as my throat thickens, “Fuck I’m going to miss you. I love you Benny.”

“I love you too Lena,” he murmurs, “To the moon and back.”

 

Four of us stand together, arms linked listening as the familiar rumble of Benny’s Camaro grows distant, brake lights fading as it turns the corner, and with a sigh we just keep on standing. Momma Bee, Joseph, Tom and I, rooted to the spot at the bottom of the drive.

“He’s gone,” I murmur, and with no ceremony I turn my face into Tom’s chest and begin to cry, and in silent comfort he holds me close, not saying a word.

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

He watches Helena from the door way of the kitchen his hand holding a steaming mug of coffee he has yet to have the urge to drink. She’s curled sideways in the big chair, head resting against the back of it with her arms circling her legs as she stares through the window. His heart breaks for her, knowing she’s in the throes of the pain still fresh from saying good bye to her best friend just an hour ago, and every once in a while she lifts a hand brushing at the seemingly endless flow of tears that escape her eyes.

“She’s beautiful,” Momma Bee murmurs from beside him and he nods his ascent, still slightly taken aback by the ease with which he’s been welcomed into this family as her arm comes around his waist giving him a soft squeeze, “Take her out Thomas. She’ll sit there all day lost in her bubble of sadness if given the chance. Take her shopping; tell her you want to get Christmas shopping done, she usually waits until the last minute but she needs a distraction.”

“Thank you, I think I’ll do just that,” he says and handing the mug to the older woman he approaches his girl.

 

_**-XX-**_  

**_Lena’s POV_ **

 

There’s an air of mystery that’s settled in the car as I sit in the passenger seat listening to Tom hum along with the music long fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He’s been surprisingly coy about our destination since he plucked me out of the chair back at Momma Bee’s with the instructions that we were going home to pack and on the road in under an hour.

“You really aren’t going to tell me what we’re doing are you?” I ask and he smiles broadly at me with a shake of his head.

“No I’m not, it’s a surprise,” he insists pulling a groan from me.

“The last surprise didn’t pan out so well you know,” I mutter which just makes him laugh and giving up I settle back in my seat getting comfortable.

“There’s my girl, just enjoy the veil of mystery. Besides, this can serve as the perfect opportunity for me to listen as you tell me more about yourself.”

“What more could you possibly want or need to know, you have an intimate knowledge of just about all there is to me,” I say resting my head on my upraised knees so I can study him.

“Oh I doubt that, I bet there is a wealth of knowledge within you that I’ve yet to discover, in fact it’ll take a lifetime to learn all there is, I’m counting on it,” he says and my heart flutters. When he speaks this way; of the possibility of a lifetime, together, I feel hopeful even when I know it’s an impossibility, “Tell me something you haven’t told me.”

“Okay,” I murmur and turning away to stare in front of me at the passing scenery through the windshield I search my mind, thinking, “My middle name is James.”

“Really?” he asks eyebrow coming together to crease the skin between them and I nod.

“Yes, really, it was my father’s name. He left my mom when she was pregnant with me. Same old excuses that are always used, _“he wasn’t ready; he was just too young,”_ bullshit like that. Anyways, she was still wildly in love with him when I was born, and since she had settled on my name the moment she discovered she was pregnant, she gave me his name, hoping that he’d come around eventually. He didn’t of course. Instead he moved on, found a new family. She never knew that, at least I don’t think she did. I found him, the summer I turned fifteen and hopped a bus into the city to see him. I was a different girl then," I murmur turning my head so that my eyes watch the scenery as it flashes by, getting lost in the memory of that far away day.

  
"I had it all in my head, how the scene would play out. I’d walk up to his door and when he’d answer it he’d know who I was, and he’d throw his arms around me and swear that he had been looking for me too, and how he missed me; how he loved me.” I say remembering the naïve heart that I once carried within me, “Needless to say that isn’t how it happened. After an hour and a half on a hot bus, I stood in front of his house staring at the way the sun danced off of the wind chimes that hung on the porch, and when the door opened two little girls ran out laughing and giggling with him chasing after. He looked up at me, and with the same smile on his face he waved at me and kept on chasing the girls. He didn’t recognize me, and the built up moment in my head just faded away.” The silence is thick and boggy with sadness and I feel as if I’ve overshared when Tom reaches over and takes my hand in his, squeezing it lightly.

“Have I ever told you about the time I became star struck when meeting Kermit the Frog?” his voice is so serious that I can't help but to start to laugh uncontrollably.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

The Hotel Bellevue is an enriching mix of modern and classic and as I watch Tom skirt around the front of my SUV I feel my chest tighten. I wasn’t expecting this. On my budget, a place like this is just never a possibility. My door opens and with a hand held out to me Tom helps me from the car.

“I’m going to take the look of shock on your face as a good sign,” he murmurs in my ear as laces his fingers with mine leading me into the beautiful lobby. I stand mute off to the side studying the art on the wall while he checks in and when he takes me by the hand again, leading me into the waiting elevator I feel as if I’m vibrating from how uncomfortable this all makes me.

“What’s the matter?” Tom asks once the doors slide closed and I shake my head offering a weak smile.

“Nothing, it’s just,” but the door let’s out the ping announcing our arrival before I can say a word, and I’m whisked down a long tiled hall. He expertly unlocks the door holding it open for me and when I pass over the threshold the air wheezes from my lungs. The room is spectacular, and bigger than my cottage.

A formal seating area sits pristine with a sleek fireplace the center of attention. A long bar flanks one wall with a healthy selection of beverages and snacks that probably cost more than my mortgage and with an undignified thump my duffle bag hits the floor.

“This is too much, Thomas, you shouldn’t have done this,” I say circling to look at him, feeling entirely too unremarkable for a place such as this.

“Have I ever told you how much I love when you say my name like that?” he asks crossing to me, “And you my Helena, are a far cry from unremarkable. Do you think you can do something for me?” He watches me as his hands come to rest on my shoulders, and I give a small nod, “I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath, and empty your head of whatever crazy thoughts have you so on edge, and embrace the fact that I want to do something nice for my girl.”

“Flowers would have done the job just fine,” I say and he laughs in his carefree way and realizing that no amount of objecting is going to change anything I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let it all go.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

I wake on the spacious bed and sitting up quickly find Tom next to me book in hand.

“Well good morning or afternoon rather,” he says carefully marking the page before setting the book aside.

“When did I fall asleep?” I ask stifling a yawn behind my hand.

“Mmm, let’s see, I excused myself to the restroom to wash up before we went to lunch and when I came back out you had fallen asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake you so, I ate an apple and read while you dropped off for a little bit,” he says enlightening me of how things happened shortly after our arrival, and as if on cue my stomach rumbles rather loudly, “Well we can’t have any of that. Up and at ‘em woman, there’s still daylight to burn. First stop, nourishment.”

 

The afternoon is spent arm in arm walking the streets of Old Town, exploring little shops, laughing over cups of coffee and tea; respectively, until finally we make our way back to the hotel.

“Now, we can wrap up this lovely evening in one of two ways,” Tom says letting us back into our suite, “We can order room service and indulge in an overpriced in-room movie, or we can ready ourselves have a proper sit down dinner in an actual grown up restaurant, and then dance the night away.”

“Whichever, you decide,” I tell him and he chuckles shaking his head.

“Your decision to make my dear,” he says and I sigh. I hate making plans or at least being the deciding factor.

“If I want to pay an ungodly amount of money for a movie, I at least want it to be worth my while, which usually means a large tub of popcorn, a monster sized pop, Pepsi never Coke, and Sour Patch Kids,” I murmur looking around the room, “And sadly I see none of those things lying around.”

“Option two it is then,” he says and before I can agree he lunges gathering me up and over his shoulders, strong arms hooking behind my knees drawing a giggle of disbelief from my lips, “But first we shower.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

Sky Ultra Lounge is precisely how it sounds, ultra; over the top and thanks to the dress code I stand shivering in the peacoat that hangs over the flirty baby pink and white dress that Tom snuck into my bag for such an occasion. We’re close to the front of the line which is moving at a blessedly steady rate and I hear the murmurs starting already.

“I swear he looks Loki,” a voice comes from behind me and I turn my head to find a mixed group of men and women standing behind us staring at the back of Tom’s head, “I’m not going to ask, you ask.”

“No way man, you do it.”

“Oh come on,” an annoyed voice pipes up and turning back around.

“Three…Two…One…” I murmur and just as Tom turns to ask me what I was saying a slim hand taps him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me aren’t you Tom Hiddleston?” a small voice asks and I watch as he drops my hand and a veil slips over his face a smile fixed to his lips. I’m hustled off to the side while he signs autographs and poses for an onslaught of pictures with the growing sea of adoring fans, laughing and conversing with them sweetly. The commotion has drawn the attention of the bouncer and after a few shared words he’s escorted to the door.

“Helena darling aren’t you coming?” Tom calls and with the blood rushing to my face I nod and press through the crowd amongst the murmuring of _‘who is she?’_

I hardly have time to take in the layout of the club as we’re hustled up an escalator and tucked away in a VIP booth where a bottle of the finest champagne sits chilling in a bucket of ice, compliments of the owner of course, and I realize that this must be something Tom deals with whenever he decides to go out.

The slow stream of fans seems never ending and as they continue to approach I get steadily drunk. The champagne was fine at first, but it just wasn’t getting the job done quick enough, so the last time the barback made their pass I requested a bottle of patron making sure to hand over my card. If I’m going to get drunk, I’m going to pay for it, literally and metaphorically; because the hangover headed my way threatens to be of massive proportion.

So I take the shots, watching Tom. He laughs, nods, rolls through conversation, and every once in a while his eyes meet mine glistening apologetic before his attention is called away again. After a spell I don’t even care anymore, barely even registering the girls who sit on his lap posing for pictures, whispering things in his ear, and the small part of me that does register the panic and jealousy is being steadily drowned out by tequila.

I’m leaning in for another shot when I catch the tail end of the latest conversation.

_“Is she your girlfriend?”_

_“A good friend darling a very good friend.”_

A friend? Really? My world spins uncontrollably for a second before snapping into crystal clear clarity. At least now, whatever we were has been spelled out for me. I stand slowly my head swimming causing me to rock on my heels and I clutch the closest thing to me which just happens to be the arm of an unfamiliar man who just smiles at me, and I know that he too, is stupidly drunk by the way he sways towards me. I laugh lightly when he leans in to talk to me but his attention is called away and letting go of his arm I continue on my drunken mission of retreat.

“Helena, where are you going?” Thomas’s voice calls as I stumble towards the escalator and I look at him shrugging my shoulders happily.

“Don’t know yet…”

 

The dance floor is a mass of people and I lose myself in it my body moving to the music which beats so hard around me I feel the bass thrumming in my head and rattling about in my chest. In this I’m free. Free from the weight of everything. I have no responsibilities here, none to anyone or anything. I am not a business owner or a best friend. I am not a very good friend or fuck buddy. I am just, free.

The weight crashes down crumbling the illusion of freedom for me as I peer up and find Thomas standing hands clutching the banister of the VIP balcony eyes scanning the crowd, and I know he’s searching me out, but he has yet to spot me. He doesn’t owe me anything, and since we’re just friends, he should enjoy his night as I was just a few minutes ago.

The alcohol dances giddily from my head to settle sickly in my stomach and knowing that the fun is over, and freedom has once again escaped my slippery hold, I press through the crowd and head to the door.

“Once you leave you won’t be allowed back in,” the gruff voice of the bouncer rings through my ears, and I nod in understanding which just makes the sudden sick feeling worse and without much ceremony at all I turn and vomit over the shiny black floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Shouldn't Be A Good In Goodbye by Jason Walker


	19. Immovable Mass; Unstoppable Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain heroines penchant for reading to far in between the lines leads to a moment of truth that has repercussions that she isn't ready to deal with. 
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> This chapter contains language and angst, and mention of abuse. If this is something that makes you uncomfortable this is not the chapter for you!

**_Chapter Nineteen: Immovable Mass; Unstoppable Force_ **

_“Easily mistaken, it is not about a love for adversity, it is about knowing a strength and a faith so great that adversity, in all its adverse manifestations, hardly even exists.”-Chris Jami_

 

**_-XX-_**

**_Tom’s POV_ **

“What do you mean you lost her?” Luke’s voice rings through the phone as Tom runs a hand over the back of his neck, “She’s a person Thomas, I mean honestly. I told you this wasn’t a good idea, didn’t I? She isn’t built for the life you lead, but you just had to test your theory.”

“She was doing just fine Luke, melted perfectly into the background while I did what I had to do,” he mutters as he makes his way through the loud club heading for the door hoping to find Helena outside catching some air, “Then she was just, gone.”

“Tom, I know you fancy the girl, but honestly what are you thinking? She’s stationed there and you’ll be home in a couple of months. The illusion is going to have to end.”

“It isn’t an illusion Luke! I love her, I am in love with her,” the words rush out of him leaving the man on the other end of the line silent, “I’ve been trying to tell you but you just won’t listen. This will never end, not for me.”

“Thomas how much have you had to drink mate?”

“I’m not drunk Luke, if you would just take five fucking minutes to listen as a friend rather than looking at this from the publicist perspective you’d understand. I have to go…”

“Wait, you’re really serious about this girl aren’t you? I-I’m sorry mate, I just thought…”

“I’m well aware of what you thought Luke, but you’re wrong. I must go though, I have to find her. I’ll call tomorrow.”

With that he ends the call sliding the phone into his pocket as he presses a hand to the door shivering slightly against the snap of cold that greets him. The line at the door had thinned considerably from before and as his head turned side to side he saw no sign of Helena.

“I poured her into a taxi about forty five minutes ago,” a deep rumbling voice sounds from behind and he turns greeted by a massive man, “She was pretty drunk. Got sick all over the floor but was in pretty good spirits. I asked her if she wanted to wait for you before leaving, but she said you were just friends and you were having fun so I was not to bother you, at all, under any circumstances.

“Shit!” the word is a frustrated growl, and with a shake of his head he thanks the bouncer and heads for the car.

 

**_-XX-_ **

 

He found her undeniably drunk and beautiful as she sat outside of the door to their shared suite, hands folded in her lap as she clicked the heels of shoes together. Her eyes are closed, lips moving slowly and he has to stop and watch her for a second.

Helena’s eyes slide open slowly and with a frustrated groan she throws her hands in the air.

“Oh come on, it worked for Dorothy. Are the scarecrow, lion, tin man, and little dog really necessary to make it work?” her voice is indignant as he stifles a laugh, and keeping silent watch she closes her eyes again drawing in a deep breath.

“There’s no one like Tom, there’s no one like Tom, there’s no one like Thomas William Hiddleston who has the only room key to let me in so I can relieve the pressure on my bladder that is assuredly about to burst and kill me in the hallway of this ridiculously expensive hotel and that just isn’t the way I want to go out,” the words are rushed and slightly slurred, and bring so much humor to him that he can’t stop the chuckle that escapes him and then her eyes snap open and raise to his and clapping her hands she shoots to her feet.

“Oh thank God,” she says, “My good friend Tom is here. Please unlock the door; I really do have to pee.”

Without a word he solemnly opens the door the mirth draining from him at her words and with a sigh he watches her rush past him disappearing in the direction of the restroom. He empties the content of his pockets onto the bar and because the mood calls for it he gathers a tumbler a few ice cubes clinking in before adding a generous amount of amber colored Jameson.

She was doing it again. Reading too much into his carefully chosen words, and how he wished she could see that it was for her own good, for her protection. With a frustrated sigh he settles on the couch staring into space as he contemplates.

 

**_-XX-_**  

**_Lena’s POV_ **

 

Stumbling from the bathroom I laugh totally unaware of what I find so humorous but at the moment that doesn’t seem to matter, what matters is the relief my feet feel being free from the heels as they pad over quite possibly the softest carpet I’ve ever felt. Having thrown up a good portion of alcohol in the lobby of Sky I’m left with the warm fuzzy feeling of being drunk, and with a quick glance I find Tom, or the back of his head at least, sitting on the couch in the fancy sitting room.

He clutches a tumbler to his chest and for a moment I wonder what has put the look of sadness on his face and then realization settles in. He left the party atmosphere and throngs of adoring fans for me. Silly, silly boy. With a shake of my head I plop in an undignified manner next to him.

“You know you didn’t have to leave and come find me, as you can see I am quite capable of taking care of myself,” I murmur to him and in response he lifts the glass in his hand and takes a slow drink. I can’t help but notice the way he swallows his Adam’s apple bobbing from the effort. He really does have the most attractive neck and throat I’ve ever seen and for a second I imagine leaning over to graze my teeth along his sensitive skin until I draw a moan from his lips.

“Clearly,” his voice is terse and I sit back blinking owlishly by his sudden cold demeanor.

“Did I do something wrong? I mean, I know I couldn’t have embarrassed you; I was too busy melting perfectly in with the wallpaper to have done that. I went unnoticed, well mostly,” I mutter and he turns his gaze to me, his jaw clenching tightly, “Look, you have your responsibilities, I get it. Besides, we’re friends, good friends I’ve heard. So what do you say you wipe that dignified anger from your face and we have fun as good friend’s do?”

I take the glass from his fingers and settle it on the table making a move for the buttons of his shirt but he stops me, large hands circling my wrists.

“Don’t,” and like that a renewed sick feeling coats the pit of my stomach, “don’t bastardize what we have.”

“What we have? What do we have Thomas, enlighten me, because in private it’s one thing, but not even three hours ago I was referred to as and I quote, _‘a very good friend’_?”

“Bloody hell woman! What do you want from me?” he yells, pushing off the couch his long legs eating up carpet as he paces furiously. Here’s a side to him I’ve never seen. Anger. Now that is an emotion I can understand, “You are the most infuriating individual I have ever met! And the damnedest thing is it intrigues me. You are so caught up in running from your past that you don’t take five minutes to see what is staring at you in the face. I don’t know how many different ways I can show you that I am completely and utterly over the moon for you. But is that enough? No! You let me in just enough to blind me and then read far too much into something that is said and meant to protect you and use it as a means to close yourself off, again! I am not those men Helena! I am not the father who was too stupid to stay and appreciate what he helped create; I am not the step-father who put his hands on your mother…”

The room spins wildly as his words trail off and the air sucks from my lungs and it’s only then in my sudden kick of panic that I notice the tears that roll from my eyes splashing the back of my hands.

I never told him about Charles.

That was a door I never dared breach with him.

With anyone.

Except for one.

“I am well aware you are not them,” I murmur shaking my head in disbelief, “You are so much worse. You have the power to completely destroy me, and I know you will, and despite how hard I’ve tried and continue to try, I’m powerless to stop the inevitable. You say you don’t know what more I want from you, well the same goes for me Thomas. I don’t know what more you want from me. Do you want me to cut myself open and show you all dark dirty secrets I’ve kept buried? Do you want to hear about how my step-father was a drunk, a mean one, who sat back and watched my mother work herself near death with three jobs to support his habit? Or maybe you want to know how I would curl up with my stuffed penguin and listen to him berate her and beat her, night after fucking night, and pray he would die so it would just stop.”

“Helena,” he steps towards me but I make a stumbling step back trembling as the dam holding every well guarded secret begins to crumble.

“No, come on Thomas you wanted to know, so here it is, all of it. I know, let me tell you about the time I was in kindergarten and had to go to school with bruises fresh on my back because he took a belt to me for spilling his beer, or the time he gave away the kitten my grandparents gave me for my birthday just because he could, or how my mother was forced to take on double over night shifts, and he found what he was lacking from her with me," I demand, the look of horror on his face only fueling my indignant rage, "Oh, does that surprise you? Does it not sit well with your delicate and proper English upbringing? There you have it Thomas, now you know, everything. Looks like it didn’t take a lifetime to discover after all.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

The tears run cold now as they roll down my face soaking the rug of the bathroom floor. It’s quiet, so eerily void of sound and yet I can’t bring myself to move, not even to change into the clothes that I hastily grabbed before taking refuge in the spacious blindingly white room. I can’t do anything. My emotional state won’t allow it nor will the memory of Thomas’s face contorted with pity.

My heart aches fiercely and the ball in my stomach grows exponentially with every passing moment as I fight the urge to get sick because that would just add icing to the already mountainous cake of humiliation I’ve baked. My body tenses painfully when I hear the tapping on the door.

“Lena,” my name is a plea muffled by the pounding in my head, “Lena please.” I want to tell him to go away, to run, and to get as far from the walking disaster that I’m made entirely of, but I can’t. I can’t move, I can’t speak, “Lena I never meant for any of this, I am so sorry love, I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

I wonder if he knows how ridiculous that sounds. It’s human nature for people to lose their temper, and in normal relationships, no matter what the relationship may be, it shouldn’t lead to a meltdown of epic proportions. Then again this situation is anything but normal.

Because this, this is what happens when an immovable mass meets an unstoppable force. They destroy each other; cancelling one another out, leaving behind the remnants and echoes of an existence that was never meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Stay by SafetySuit
> 
> Broken Crown by Mumford & Sons
> 
> So I gave a bonus chapter because of all the hits and kudos I received the last time I posted, and with this I leave a bit of a cliff hanger on the state of our dear friends, Helena and Tom's relationship. I will be away on vacation for a week and you know what would be awesome to come back to? More love in the form of kudos, subscriptions, and maybe even a comment or two! I'm not picky! As always I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> -EM


	20. Now Or Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music helps bridge the gap created by a misunderstanding that flew completely out of control. Maybe things are finally starting to look up for our duo...maybe.
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> This chapter contains fluff in a major, almost too sweet way, but I just couldn't help myself!

**_Chapter 20: Now or Never_ **

_“There’s no next time. It’s now or never.”-Celestine Chua_

_**-XX-** _

**Tom’s POV**

He’d damn himself to hell if it would help; if it would mean erasing the look of utter brokenness that haunted her face before she stole away behind a locked door leaving him to feel shaken on the other side, and he’d give just about anything to be let in so he could gather her close and soothe the hurt he helped cause.

He’d ripped her open or at the very least gave her the knife for her to do it herself. He sits guard by the door, unmoving and acutely aware of the stagnant silence. He wants to help her, to heal her, to show her that despite the brokenness, with him, she could be whole. He’d die trying if it was asked of him.

Like a slap to his face, the answer greets him, and getting to his feet he crosses to the bedside table where his IPod lies dark. He clicks through his playlists landing on the one titled Helena, and taking up his station at the door he presses play and lets the music do his bidding.

 

_**-XX-** _

                                                                                                                                                                

**_Lena’s POV_ **

****

_When you try your best, but you don’t succeed_

_When you get what you want, but not what you need_

_When you feel so tired, but you can’t sleep_

_Stuck in reverse_

_And the tears come streaming down your face_

_When you lose something you can’t replace_

_When you love someone, but it goes to waste_

_Could it be worse?_

_Lights will guide you home_

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you_

The music flows around me and with a hiccupping sound my chest hitches from a fresh onslaught of tears. The song was used before, to get me to let him in, and it’s working again. He knows me, despite my every effort of not allowing it to happen, and with my eyes squeezed shut I try to ignore the words that speak to my soul.

 

_And high up above or down below_

_When you’re too in love to let it go_

_But if you never try you’ll never know_

_Just what you’re worth_

_Lights will guide you home_

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you_

The music builds my emotions up until they come crashing down with a crescendo and with eyes closed I sob, clutching the rug as my heart fills and bursts on a constant loop.

 

_Tears stream down your face_

_When you lose something you cannot replace_

_Tears stream down your face And I..._

 

_Tears stream down your face_

_I promise you I will learn from my mistakes_

_Tears stream down your face And I..._

_Lights will guide you home_

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try to fix you_

 

His hand is soft when it cups my face forcing my drenched eyes open as the song ends, and he smiles slowly, sadly.

“I got a key from the maintenance man,” he murmurs answering my unasked question, “I’m sorry.”

 

 _ **-XX-**_  

 

“I wasn’t always like this, you know,” I murmur into the darkness as I sit wrapped in the quilt from the bed, feet propped on the bars of the balcony, my breath coming out in little white puffs, “ I used to be the girl who found more than just a diversion in reading fairy tales, I believed in them, wished for them.”

“Lena you don’t owe me an explanation, everyone has a past and no one goes unshaped by it,” Tom says from his spot beside me and his voice dripping with understanding and compassion.

“She used to wish on stars too,” I murmur lifting my face to the clear December sky, stars winking and shining against the vast veil of black, “That version of me, that girl, she would have wished for you.”

 

 _ **-XX-**_  

 

“That sounds brutal,” Benny’s voice rings out echoing off the bathroom walls as his face fills the screen of my phone.

“It was brutal, so very, very, brutal,” I murmur as I nonchalantly rub the towel over my wet hair, “I don’t know what to do. He was gone when I woke up, left a note that he was going for his run, but seriously Benny, the energy is just, off.”

“That shouldn’t be all that surprising, I mean come on Lena, if it was as bad as you described, it’s only natural that things seem off,” he says and I roll my eyes indicating silently that he isn’t helping, “What you need to do is tip the scales back in your favor. Make it light hearted again. Fun.”

“Sexy!” John’s voice carries from the background and I groan.

“I don’t do sexy,” I mutter staring at my bare legs that poke out from the towel wrapped around me.

“You don’t do sexy, yet, but you will. Just listen to me young Grasshopper, this is what you do,” Benny starts and I listen intently as he lays out a game plan for me to turn everything around.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

Bellevue Square is one and a half million square feet of shopper’s paradise. Separated into three levels, it’s a beautiful mix between art gallery and retail therapy. The crowd is thick, bodies bustling to and fro on their individual quests for the perfect gift. Teenagers walk hand in hand or in droves causing a slight feeling of nostalgia to rise inside of me as I’m  reminded of the time I spent with my friends during those years back home, walking the mall, equally wanting to be seen and go unseen. A simpler time then, I suppose.

Now look at me, I walk hand in hand with Tom who stops every five or six steps to stare through the glass of different shops, a hum always rising in the back of his throat before shaking his head and continuing on his search, for what exactly I still don’t know, but I’m enjoying it.

We stop again, this time in front of the Disney store and he drops my hand so he can pull the phone from his pocket and I watch him, adoring the way his eyes scan the screen of the device in his hands his lips moving as he reads.

I notice the bright haired little boy first, his eyes growing wide as he simply stops walking, his hand falling free from his mother’s grasp.

“Pete, come one I don’t have time for this,” the harried woman’s voice is a frustrated plea as she reaches for the boy, but before she can regain control the little boy is propelled forward on his loosely tied sneakers.

“Yo-you’re Loki!” the little boys thrilled voice fills the air and with my chest tightening I watch as Tom lowers his phone, sliding into an easy smile.

“I’ve been discovered! Tell me young one how did you know it was me?” Tom asks his voice taking on that Loki sound and I smile arms crossing over my chest as I watch the scene unfold. He sinks to his knees so he’s eye level with the mirth filled brown eyed boy listening intently as he whispers something in his ear, and a few  seconds later his head is thrown back as he laughs.

He truly does make a picture as he talks to the sweetest of his fans, laughing and building up the fantasy in his hands, and as the boy’s mother struggles to pull her phone from her purse I do what comes naturally.

“I’ll take the picture if you’d like,” I murmur stepping to her and with a grateful smile she hands me her phone, and with a few careful flicks over the screen I pull up the camera. I catch Tom’s gaze as he stands hauling the boy up with him settling him on his hip, and as he wraps his other arm around the woman he smiles, a blinding, sweet smile that shifts something inside of my chest.

His hand is warm in mine again as he waves his free hand to the boy who waves furiously back, and I can’t help but smile at him.

“What?” he finally asks as we begin walking again.

“Nothing, it’s just,” I murmur shrugging my shoulders, “You made that little boys day, quite possibly his life up to this point. It was sweet, watching you with him.”

 

_**-XX-** _

 

Twenty minutes later I’m acutely aware that we’re being followed. I turn my head to the side finding a group of six girls, all whispering to one another walking a few feet behind us. Their eyes are speculative as they fall on my hand which remains securely tucked in the crook of Tom’s arm.

“We’re being followed,” I murmur to him and he smiles keeping his eyes forward as he continues his lazy pace.

“Tell me something new,” he replies and I chuckle shaking my head pulling my hand from his arm.

“You do your thing, I’m going to be right in there, come find me when you’ve finished,” I say smiling reassuringly and he nods slipping into actor mode as I slip away. I cast a glance backwards giving a small laugh and shake of my head at the swarm that suddenly surrounds him.

Thirty minutes later, with my top secret purchases made, I step back out of the perfumed air of CG Ink to find Tom sitting on the bench a few bags of his own tucked under the bench at his feet.

“I see you made some purchases of your own,” I say settling next him.

“I did indeed. How about you, what did you get?” he asks and I smile shaking my head at him.

“That my dear Thomas is for me to know and you to find out.”

 

 

After a few more hours of shopping, with arms weighted down from our purchases we managed to get everything back to the hotel and after a quick change of wardrobe, pushed back out into the cold for our next destination.

Chaplin’s Ice Arena is alive with activity, music blaring through speakers as people take to the ice in varying degrees of ability. I watch captivated by the mix of people, those who spin and skate effortlessly and those who laugh with every trembling step they take. There’s something magical about this time of year and I intend on soaking up every second of it.

“Here we are, a size eight and a half for the little lady,” Tom says when he reaches my side and I have to laugh at the perfect southern drawl that spills from his lips.

“It’s so weird how you can do that,” I murmur taking the black skates from his hands, “A good weird, but weird nonetheless.”

“Tell me sweet Helena, have you ever ice skated before?” he asks slipping a foot into a skate his fingers getting busy with the laces.

“Not a day in my life,” I laugh shaking my head, “But it’s been on my list for years. Come on,” I grab his hand once he’s finished and we take the ice.

 

**_-XX-_ **

 

My body aches in the best possible way as I look through the pictures on my phone. I laughed myself silly from the moment my feet hit the ice, followed relatively quickly by my ass. I couldn’t help the great joy I found in taking Tom down with me, finding that on ice at least he’s as graceless as I am, after all he makes everything else looks so effortless, it’s nice to know that he is in fact human and is not good at everything he tries.

I chuckle at the picture of him that stares back at me, whipped cream from the hot cocoa we shared sticking to the end of his nose. I knew he did that on purpose just to make me laugh harder and that meant the world to me.

We step into the suite and find it freezing from the open balcony door.

“Brr,” I murmur rubbing my hands over the long sleeves of my shirt, “Why don’t you get the fire going. Maybe we can watch a movie or something. I’m going to change.” I lay the plan easily, surprised that my nerves don’t shake in my voice as I gather the bag from beside the bed without him noticing as he crosses to the fireplace.

I slip into the bathroom shutting the door with a small click and flipping the lock I take a deep breath.

It’s now or never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Fix You-Coldplay
> 
> Hello! And Welcome Back! First I want to give a super special shout out to cheryl72, whose comment made me a grinning fool while I waited in LAX Airport for my flight home from sunny California! Seriously it made my week! And a thank you to all the new kudo givers, LadyAlarah and sweetsgal. And cloj, who commented before I even left. Seriously, it all does my heart good. So I hope the positivity keeps on coming this way. So please feel free to drop a kudo or comment, message even, or if you are feeling particularly adventurous a smoke signal! Tell me a favorite quote from this chapter or any other ones you liked. I would love to open some dialogue with all of you!
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> -EM


	21. Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena tries her hand at tipping the scales back in her favor and it just might be what was needed
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> I think the title makes this kind of self-explanatory but I will put the warning in anyways. This chapter contains sex...what can I say, I'm a fan of it :) You've been warned....please do enjoy!

**_Chapter Twenty One: Seduction_ **

_“The next time you try to seduce anyone, don't do it with talk, with words. Women know more about words than men ever will. And they know how little they can ever possibly mean.”-William Faulkner._

**_-XX-_ **

 

My stomach is a mess of butterflies as I stand at the bathroom door, all the boldness and carefully laid planning coming undone at the thought of well, humiliation. One misstep and surely I’d die of embarrassment. I contemplate the piles of clothes on the floor, wondering if Tom would even notice if I hadn’t changed, and in the midst of my mental torture my cell phone pings with a notification.

 _‘Remember, be you, be sexy, and whatever you do, do not chicken out! He’ll love it, I swear!’_ Benny’s text message blazes out at me like a light in the ever growing darkness. Finally a response to the pictures I sent him from the store earlier.

I take a steadying breath pressing a shaky hand to my bare stomach.

“Now or never, Lena, you can do this,” I murmur to myself, and unlocking the door I shut the light off and peer out.

He stands hands in his pockets as he stares through the window at the sleepy winter cityscape just on the other side. He’s awash in flickering light from the fireplace which casts shadows about the otherwise unlit room. He’s stunning in his contemplation as I walk towards him, and with each step the sense of need builds within me.

“Have you decided on a mov…” the words drop off midsentence as he turns and I see the change in his face. His eyes widen just slightly as he swallows.

“Hi,” I murmur coming closer to him until finally I stand before him, heart pounding in my chest as I reach for him. I take his hand my fingers interlacing with his watching as his eyes skim over me. I was careful picking out the delicate lace in a pretty shade of green, knowing he favors the color on me. I feel both strangely exposed and emboldened as I stand clad in nothing but a bra and panties.

“Helena,” my name is a whisper as he cups my face his lips meeting mine and I sink into the kiss, into him and when I feel just drunk enough off of him I pull away leading him to the edge of the bed.

“You once asked me if I knew what I do to you,” I say gently pushing him down so that he’s sitting, “I don’t, I know you wish that I did, but I don’t see myself the way you do. Just like you don’t see yourself the way I do, so let me show you, let me show you what you do to me.”

My seduction starts slowly as I press feather light kisses over his face careful when I reach his lips to not let it go too deep for fear that I would simply come apart and ruin the moment before it’s truly begun. My fingers glide across the planes and dips of his face, dancing down the sides of his neck, and the groan that escapes his lips thrills me.

I sit my legs circling him with his hands cupping my waist lightly and I smile at his hitching breathes resounding in my ears as I kiss and nibble along his throat. His responsiveness to my advances serving as a serious ego boost. One of his hands slides up my back settling between my shoulder blades tensing slightly every time my teeth graze the sensitive skin where his pulse throbs in his throat sending a shiver running through me. Lazily I raise my arm behind my back dancing over the back of his and slowly I unclasp the hook. His fingers are greedy as they explore the skin exposed and tipping back on his thighs slightly I pull the bra away. I lift his hand and tenderly press a kiss to each fingertip before pressing it between my breasts, his palm lying where my heart beats a quick rhythm in my chest.

“Feel that?” I whisper and he nods slowly, eyes glazed as they stare back at me. I don’t have to say anything else. He knows. He knows that he holds my heart. Only him…forever him.

My need becomes feverish as I kiss him pressing my skin to his delighting in the way he grips me, and before I know what’s happening I’m lifted and settled back down and pressing up to my elbows I watch as he undresses, completely entranced by every movement he makes.

Then he’s there and everywhere. His lips greedily feasting on mine as his hand snakes down my body reducing me to a quivering mass of exposed nerves as he pulls the lace from me, fingers seeking. He reaches his target, spot on as they sink into me his forehead resting against mine as I arch towards him, his hand resting against my lower back holding me there as he pushes me towards the peak, and I take a stumbling fall over it, crying out in shock.

My bones are liquid as he lifts me but despite their current state they instinctively wrap around his waist as he again takes a seated position on the end of the bed. His lips brush over my collar bone, his tongue heating a path over my shoulder where his teeth nip pulling a hiss of pleasure from my lips. The length of him is lovingly resting and pulsing between my slick folds and my hips twitch unconsciously against him and the sound he makes, a breathy moan against my ear, is downright delicious.

I press my knees into the mattress positioning myself over him and with my eyes lock on his slowly move down watching the way his eyes roll slightly as he enters me.

“O-oh yes,” he murmurs once he’s filled me to the hilt and setting a pace perfect for the moment his hands grip my hips and with a ravenous hunger for one another we match beats taking the heady sprint for release, and in this I feel the tipping of the proverbial scales, and all is right in my world.

 

 _ **-XX-**_  

 

The days pass quickly and with the holiday rush reaching its peak the weekend away becomes more and more of a memory. My feet scream as I box up the latest order of books to be shipped, and since the shop is empty I wiggle out of my simple white sneakers, sighing when the ache almost immediately dissipates. Christmas is coming fast and with that thought the giddy feeling fills me.

Christmas is and has always been my favorite holiday. The lights, the tree’s, the music, and the magic of it all makes me believe that anything is possible, even if it’s just one day a year. I grin turning up the volume on the remote as the familiar strains of “ _We Wish You a Merry Christmas”_ begin to play.

It’s going to be a little strange, not having Benny here to share in the festivities and Tom’s growing secrecy helps nothing, but still I look forward to Momma Bee and Joseph’s annual Christmas party. Too bad Tom won’t be here, but I can’t really be too upset. Of course he’d want to be with his family for the holiday.

I shake my shoulders letting out a steady breath. I will not let anything bring down my mood, and with a renewed sense of enthusiasm I finish with my task at hand.

It’s in the middle of belting out _“Oh Holy Night,”_ that Tom stumbles in, all bright eyes and smiles as he dips me low pressing a resounding kiss to my lips.

“You’re in a good mood,” I say smiling when he leans against the counter studying me as I clean.

“And why shouldn’t I be? Christmas is in the air and I just finagled an invite to the hottest party of the season,” he says and I smile rolling my eyes. I get pretty lost when he starts talking about home, mostly because he gets so excited and talks so fast, so the most I can assume is he managed an invitation to a party across the pond, “And I’ve heard told that if given just the right amount of sweets a certain honey haired angel can be coerced into playing the piano, which I’ll admit, slightly wounded me to learn from anyone other than you.”

I stop mid swipe of the rag across the marble counter, confused by the words I’ve heard.

“Wait, you aren’t going home for Christmas?” I ask and I’m met with a confused stare.

“No, I’m not, were you operating under the impression that I was?” he asks suddenly standing up straight.

“Well yeah, I mean, it’s Christmas, won’t your family be upset?” I ask and he smiles slowly at me.

“Lena, this won’t be the first, nor the last holiday I wager that I’m not home for,” he says and the thought saddens me.

“It’s not just a holiday Thomas, it’s Christmas, Christmas is meant for family,” I say as he buries his hands in his pockets looking crestfallen.

“I will be with family.”

“You know what I mean Thomas.”

“Why are you so insistent that I go home? Do you not want me here? Are you ashamed to take me as your date to this party of Momma Bee’s? I am hurt, just downright injured,” his tone takes a turn towards humored and I sigh through the laughter.

“Of course I want you here, I just think, you’ve already been home for so long, and you still have three months in that cottage of yours before you leave. Doesn’t your family miss you?” I ask hopping up on the counter swinging my legs back and forth.

“Of course they do, as I miss them, terribly sometimes, but they understand that I’m where I need to be right now, where I want to be. Besides, Mum is downright enchanted by Momma Bee and has given her whole hearted blessing for me staying here,” he says and I’m shocked by the idea that Momma Bee has spoken to his mother, “Now, if you are quite done trying to shove me off across the pond, I’d love nothing more than to take my girl home and finish what we started and failed to finish this morning.” I laugh when he snatches me off the counter easily tossing me over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Rude Boy-Rihanna (just seemed fitting to me)
> 
> So here is Chapter Twenty One. I have exactly five more chapters for part one, so I want to know which you would prefer, quick postings to move us into part two, or stretch it out a bit! Sound off my lovelies. And Thank You again for all those who stumble across my corner of fiction land and enjoy their stay!
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> -EM


	22. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas morning dawns on Witchcastle bringing with it presents to open and memories to be cherished.
> 
> Warning!
> 
> Major fluff ahead, but you'll love it!

**_Chapter Twenty Two: Christmas_ **

_“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.”-Laura Ingalls Wilder._

**_-XX-_**

Christmas morning dawns with the potential for significant snowfall, but not a single flake is in sight as I stare sleepily through the kitchen window, my hand curled around my first of many cups of coffee. I yawn loudly shivering towards the end and as I turn I remember why I’m so tired.

It was a late night with Tom and I chasing each other around, laughter filling the air under the music channel that has taken over every radio within my reach as we commenced with a tinsel fight. I smile at the memory of it, and with a shake of my head I pad to the couch and sit kicking the silver strings that cling to my fuzzy pink socks.

Could it really have only been a handful of hours ago that I was reduced to tears born of laughter as Tom tackled me to the floor tickling me into submission? I don’t recognize this version of myself, not that I’m complaining, it just seems like so much is changing and so fast. It’s a whirlwind of emotions that blows through me as I hear the sluggish footsteps down the hall.

“What are you doing awake, it was well past four before we finally fell asleep?” Tom asks pilfering the mug from my hands to take a hardy gulp before wincing at the amount of sugar I use. It’s routine. He knows I use far too much sugar and still he insists on drinking it anyways.

“It’s Christmas morning, sleep is the last thing on my mind,” I murmur as he climbs over the arm of the couch to sit next to me, and when he pulls me against him I realize how just downright childlike he looks with his hair a curly mess of gold tinted red standing in random tufts about his head.

“Do we get to open presents now?” he asks his voice a cheerful lilt in my ears and I shake my head at him.

“Nope, have to wait until we get to Momma Bee and Joseph’s,” I murmur and he groans his head falling back.

“Then we should be asleep still,” he mutters pathetically as he tosses an arm over his eyes.

“I suppose it won’t hurt to open just one,” I say and with a reflex I wasn’t aware I had I manage to not bobble the cup in my hands as he scrambles up from beside me to search the wrapped packages beneath the prettily decorated tree. He fishes out a medium sized rectangle box wrapped with happily dancing penguin paper and a tiny box wrapped in gold that I don’t recognize.

“Here you go,” he says smiling as he places the small box in my hands and I watch him as he settles on the edge of the table, tearing at the my meticulously wrapped package. The weight of the box in my hand goes nearly unnoticed as he lifts the top off the package, pushing green colored paper aside and then his face lights up as the laugh bubbles up and out. He pulls the shirt from the inside shaking it out to get a good look at the front and turning it he holds it against him smiling broadly at me.

“A Kermit shirt!” he exclaims, and I smile blushing softly.

“It may seem silly but I remember you saying you got star struck meeting him and all,” I say and my words are swallowed up when he presses his lips to mine.

“It is far from silly, it’s sweet that you remembered,” he says and I giggle shaking my head when he pulls his sleep rumpled shirt replacing it with the new one.

“Aren’t you going to open yours?” he asks pointing to the gift still in my hand and I nod turning my attention to it. I tear the pretty gold paper, fingers shaking hesitating when the paper falls away revealing a box in tiffany blue, with the Tiffany & Co embellishing the top.

“Thomas,” I murmur lifting the top revealing a diamond star pendent necklace sparkling back at me, “Oh.” He takes it from my hands and gingerly removes it from the box, and circling behind the couch he softly instructs me to lift my hair. The chain is cold around my neck and when the pendent rests against my skin my fingers can’t help but to come up to brush against it.

“It would seem that great minds think alike,” he murmurs coming to sit in front of me again, “I too remember what you said, about how you used to be a girl who wished on stars. Now you have your very own to make any and as many wishes as you want. You might be surprised, one may just come true.”

I’m moved beyond words, and because I don’t trust my voice I just smile and throw my arms around him.

 

**_-XX-_ **

**_Tom’s POV_ **

 

 

He stood in the cold talking on the phone with his Mum, happily relaying Momma Bee’s latest story of Benny’s settling into his new home and when she finishes her laughing fit she sighs the contented sigh he believes can only truly come with age.

“So dear boy tell me of this girl I’ve been hearing so much about. Luke has been in a downright tiff about her, constantly mumbling to himself that he likes the states well enough for a visit but hates the idea of having to move there. Is there something you’re not sharing?” she asks and with a roll of his eyes he shoots his gaze to the graying sky.

“No Mum, I’ve shared all I can at this point. Luke, as always is just getting ahead of himself and everyone else for that matter. As for my girl, my Helena…” words fail him, as they often do where she’s concerned.

“Your Helena, hmm? Well, it does an old birds heart well to hear her son talk in such a way. Do tell, when will you be bringing her over for a proper meeting then?”

“When I can manage it Mum, I promise,” he assures her, “I’m going to ring off now I must rejoin the festivities. Really Mum, I wish you were here to see the layout Momma Bee has in there. It’s amazing. Give my love to Sarah and Em won’t you? Merry Christmas.” He listens as she echoes his sentiment and hanging up the phone he pushes back into the party.

He appreciates the intimacy. So unlike the other parties he’s attended in the months since he set foot in Witchcastle, in that the crowd is much more exclusive, and less likely to monopolize his time in trivial conversation that he can’t make heads or tails of. Joseph presses a cup of warm cider into his hands and standing beside him talks in a low tone.

“I saw the sparkler our Lena is sporting,” Joseph says a broad smile splitting his face and lighting his eyes, “Good job.” He bumps his shoulder lightly to Tom’s, “She’s changed so much because of you. We always knew she’d find someone who would bring out the dreamy side of her, but after a while we started doubting we’d be around to see it. It does us both good to watch it unfold.”

“She is-she just,” the words fail him as he tries to think of what to say and the silence is broken up by Joseph’s booming laugh.

“She’s got you tongue tied and liking it doesn’t she? Women, the right ones, will do that to you. I remember the first time I set eyes on my Mari; she was all fluttering eyes and just seemed to flit around like a bee in search of pollen. I couldn’t speak straight for days the first time she leveled those hazel eyes at me, so I get it. Just, do me a favor won’t you?” the older man asks his voice full of sentiment.

“Anything.”

“Take care with her.”

“It is my every intention.”

 

_**-XX-** _

**_Lena’s POV_ **

****

I watch them, Joseph and Tom, which isn’t hard to do. They stand out thanks to their towering heights and it hits me how right they look standing shoulder to shoulder, lost in conversation, and every once in a while Tom’s eyes come up and find mine and he smiles, that breathtaking smile I’m almost certain I’ll never get over.

“Lena,” my name is called out forcing me to look away from my focal point and I smile when Momma Bee stands in the door way to the kitchen waving me over. I push through the spacious sitting room stopping to hug and chat along the way and when I finally reach her Momma Bee is in a right state of giddy and merry thanks to countless baked goods no doubt.

“I have a surprise for you,” Momma Bee says and I look around.

“What is it?” I ask seeing nothing out of the ordinary amongst the Christmas decorations and sweet scent of hot cider and sweets.

“You’ll see,” she chirps in a sing song voice, and then Tom joins us having been waved over. I laugh as she maneuvers us until we’re standing face to face.

“Momma Bee,” I murmur but she just tsk’s at me and stepping back she claps her hands happily.

“Look up,” she says and as one we do only to find mistletoe hanging above our heads, “You have to kiss, it’s terribly bad luck if you don’t.” I open my mouth to tell her it’s silly but my hand is taken and I’m pulled up to my tip toes flush against Tom as he fixes his lips to mine, and in the glow of holiday spirit I return the kiss. It is Christmas after all.

 

With the party winding down and the last of the attendees being seen to the door I sit curled on the couch my legs over the top of Tom’s, his hand holding mine. Momma Bee closes the door and presses her back to the wood.

“I thought they’d never leave,” Momma Bee murmurs and I laugh shaking my head.

“Well maybe if you didn’t throw such amazing parties people wouldn’t be inclined to stick around all day and night,” I say and she points a finger at me.

“Okay Miss. Smarty Pants, no presents for you,” she says shaking her finger in the air only garnering more laughter.

“All right, but that means no presents for you either.” Our eyes are locked on each other as a beat of silence passes between us, and then we’re both laughing as she crosses the room to settle in her overstuffed arm chair. It’s always been tradition, as long as I’ve been here at least, that presents waited until after the party, and as I sit lazily stroking small circular patterns on the Tom’s hand I’m not inclined to move.

“Joey, you play Santa this year won’t you? I am far too exhausted,” Momma Bee says stifling a yawn and I watch as Joseph crosses to the tree pulling packages from under. I’m forced to move, much to my dismay, and once sitting up a large box is placed in my lap. There’s weight to it, and noticing the tag I see it’s from Benny, and I can’t help but to smile. Even from so far away he manages to surprise me.

The sound of murmured voices and ripping paper fills my ears as I lift the top of the plain white box that was hiding under polar bear paper, and pushing sparkling blue paper aside, a picture of Tom and I greets me. My heart thuds in my chest as I lift the thick book from the box setting it on my legs. My fingers dance over the cover, and opening it I read the inscription.

_Lena,_

_For the times you need a reminder of what love looks like._

_-Benny._

The pages seem endless as I brush my fingers over the words written in his looping scrawl, and because my emotions rock unsteady I set it back in its box tucking it beside the couch before excusing myself. I take the stairs and at the end of the hall find myself in his old room, and settling on the edge of the bed I pull my phone out.

Two rings and it connects.

“Benny,” I whisper his name and there is a soft sigh on the other end.

“You’re welcome Lena, Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't really find a perfect song for this chapter, so if anyone can think of one, feel free to share it with me (I do love music!) A huge thank you to all my followers and supporters, seriously, I couldn't ask for better! This portion is coming close to it's end but don't fret I have been busily working on part two, so the lull between the two won't be long at all.
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> -EM
> 
> P.S
> 
> I created a tumblr blog for this series. Feel free to check it out here witchcastleseries.tumblr.com   
> Here is where links to the chapters will be posted as well as music muse(s), clothing selections, and any other random thing I think of adding!


	23. Birthday Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helena has plans for Tom's birthday, but with all well laid plans there is bound to be a few hiccups along the way...
> 
> Warning!
> 
> This chapter contains language, a dash of angst, mild alcohol consumption (mild in Helena standards) not to mention a little sex (it is his birthday after all)

**Chapter Twenty Three: Birthday Blues**

_“Nothing reminds one of the insurmountable fact that time is running out quite like a birthday.”-Anonymous._

**_-XX-_ **

Time, as much as I hate it, goes on and much to my misfortune there isn't a pause button on life, and once Christmas and the New Year passed it seemed to jump into warp speed. Four weeks, that’s all the time that remains for Tom and I, and every day, no matter what we’re doing, I feel my heart teetering closer and closer to the edge of falling hopelessly to its impending doom. I find myself unable to find sleep, and slipping from bed I shrug into the shirt carelessly thrown over the bench at the foot of the bed quietly slipping from the room.

The television casts a soft blue glow as I sit on the couch, the book Benny gave me for Christmas sitting on my lap, turned to a random page, and with my fingers brushing the page I remember when this picture was taken. Benny’s going away party in the photo booth before big drama went down with Clara, Tom and I squeezed in together making random faces at the camera before kissing each other breathless.

The tears come and I do nothing to stop them, instead I let them roll down my face and splash onto the edges of the pages in front of me.

“Lena?” Tom’s sleepy voice fills my head and I turn to look at him, “What is it?” I shake my head unable to speak as he crosses to me, and looking down he smiles at the pictures on the page.

“That was a good night, before the cat fight that is,” he says and I laugh lightly closing the book, “you’ve been crying a lot as of late, I wish you’d tell me what’s hurting you.”

“I’m just being stupid, and selfish,” I murmur dashing away the tears.

“Oh? I’m sorry love, I’m trying to follow but it is just shy of three in the morning and my brain is still a bit fogged, care to enlighten me,” he says as I start to trace the pattern on the cover of the book.

“You leave in four weeks,” I murmur, “And I know that it’s still a way’s off, but it feels in here,” I say pressing a hand to my chest, “like it might as well be tomorrow. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I think I might just have the remedy to this problem,” he says and I watch as he gets up disappearing down the hall, and after a few minutes he returns with a folded paper in his hands. He places it in my lap and in confusion I unfold it.

I read over the document dread only filling my stomach more. Travel confirmation for an open ended ticket to London, dated the day he leaves and in my name.

“Thomas,” I say shaking my head as I look up at him, “What did you do?”

“I have to go home Lena, I have contractual duties I have to see to or else I’d stay, this way you can come with me. You can explore the city while I work, meet my family, this doesn’t have to end,” he says his voice filling with such joy that my heart takes a tiny step in being swept up with it. But common sense, being the ever interloping bitch she is steps in.

“Thomas, I can’t,” I murmur handing the itinerary back to him, “I can’t go to London with you.”

“I don’t understand…” he looks devastated as he stares at me.

“I have responsibilities here. I have a business I can’t afford to just close the doors and go gallivanting across the ocean with someone that I barely know,” I say noticing the flicker of anger that crosses his face.

“I knew this was going to happen,” he spits, “I thought we were past this. How can you still not trust me?”

“What are you talking about? This has nothing to do with trust, and everything to do with responsibility. I don’t have the same financial standing as you; I have to work every day for what I do have. March through September are peak season Thomas, that’s how I survive the rest of the year. I-I’m sorry.”

“If money is the root of this issue, then it isn’t a problem at all, I’ll take care of you Lena,” his words roll through my head, and the small sane part of me that still exists in this moment is drowned out by the much bigger insane part of me that points out how much that statement makes me sound like a whore.

“Absolutely not,” I sputter pushing up from the couch, “You will not take care of me financially, I’ve been doing for myself since I was seventeen.”

“Pride goeth before the fall Helena,” he says and I snap.

“Damn right I’m proud! Why shouldn’t I be? I have had to fight every step of the way for everything that I have, which I know might be hard for someone of your breeding to understand, but the last thing I will ever be is someone’s whore, no matter how well paid.”

“That’s what you think isn’t it? You really believe that’s how you would be perceived, by my friends, my family?” he demands and I begin to tremble the adrenaline of the fight coursing so hotly through me it’s a wonder I don’t burst into flames from it.

“How would it look to you if one of your friends came home from a holiday with an extremely ordinary American who cannot even begin to measure up to your status, paying their way in all sense of the word? Tell me you wouldn’t think the same exact thing,” I scream, and he rolls his eyes getting to his feet.

“If you think for one second that I’m going to stay here and listen to you tear down what you are to me, to cheapen your own worth you are not only stupidly prideful but sadly mistaken!” I jump when he slams out of the front door, and when the silence is all that greets me I crumble.

 

 

**_Tom’s POV_ **

**_-XX-_ **

****

As he ran he fumed, and the more he fumed, the less the pain stung. Which is exactly what he wanted. He had planned on waiting for Valentine’s Day to give her the ticket, and he’d imagined it all in his head like a wonderful play. The way those blue-green gold flecked eyes would fill and spill over as her full lips trembled; then she’d throw her arms around him and they’d make love knowing it wouldn’t really be ending. Their time together would just carry on, over an ocean, where he could show her all the things, places, and people that helped shape him; and if given enough time he’d convince her that they belong together, forever.

His running halts as it hits him. How springing something like this on her must have been a shock, and of course under the blanket of betrayal he realizes that she really isn’t capable of just jetting off with him. With a groan he turns his feet towards home and prays he can make it right.

His feet hit the porch and swinging the screen door open he moves to open the door only to find it locked. He stares perplexed at the golden knob. And pressing his ear to the door he can hear the muffled tone of music blaring loudly.

“Fuck,” he mutters and feeling much like the dog who was shooed from the dinner table for begging for scraps he lets himself into his little used cottage.

 

Freshly showered he watches through the window of the kitchen for any sign of her, but there is no movement, and the music that flowed heavy and angry was silenced minutes ago. He catches sight of her from the corner of his eye and dashing for the door he finds Lena walking quickly away up the lane.

“Lena!” he calls chasing after her but she doesn’t stop, she just keeps moving ignoring him, “Lena wait!” He catches her easily turning her to look at him. Her eyes flood tears pouring down her cheeks and he sighs hating that he’s the cause for her distress, “Lena, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, I never meant, I mean, I should have found a better way,” her breath hitches as she tries to speak but all she can do is stand before him a trembling mass of emotion.

“Shh, we’ll forget it okay? I know you have responsibilities here, which is why I got the open ended ticket. It’s good for a year, you know. Maybe you can find some time to fit in a vacation or something,” he murmurs pulling her into him and after a spell of holding her, once her breathing evens out he wraps an arm around her walking amicably in the silence of the February morning with her.

 

**_Lena’s POV_ **

**_-XX-_ **

 

I fiddle with the candles on the table, nerves balling tightly in the pit of my stomach as I smooth the linen table cloth refusing to look at the clock for what would be the millionth time. Tom said he would be here on time, and I have to believe that, but the idea of celebrating his birthday one on one makes me nervous. I can’t help it. I’ve never done this before, not for a boyfriend, or whatever Tom is, and I chuckle at the thought, because somehow the word sounds strange to me; juvenile even.

I check the clock and deciding I’ve done all I can to prepare I sit at the table staring at the door.

Minutes pass into hours, and soon the nerves that had set up shop in my stomach turns to anger. He said he’d be here. He can’t possibly still be mad about yesterday’s fight, could he? I wonder to myself as I blow out the candles on the table, and gathering the plates I stack them together putting them back in the cabinet. I shut off the simmering sauce and toe out of my heels.

Darkness has fallen and joining it is my mood.

I pour the last drops of the most expensive bottle of wine I’ve ever bought into the glass as the door opens and uncaring I stare at Thomas, who stands in the doorway, a looming figure that seems to melt from the darkness behind him.

“Well if it isn’t the birthday boy! Come join me in a drink,” I say looking at the bottle, “Oops, I drunk it all.”

“Lena,” he says and I laugh at the way his voice sounds, so humored by it in fact I give it a shot myself.

“Lena,” I mimic his accent perfectly before laughing, “Look at that Hiddleston, you’re not the only one good at impressions.”

“You’re drunk,” he says a pained look on his face.

“And you sir, are perceptive,” I say draining the glass, “Do you like the dress?” I motion to the form fitting blue material I wiggled myself into hours ago.

“It’s very lovely,” he gulps as I stand giving a quick twirl of my body.

“I know I picked it out thinking how wonderful it would feel to have you peel it off of me. It was stupid really, the plans I made, like it was out of a cheesy romance novel. I’d make you dinner, give you your gift, and then offer myself for dessert. How ridiculous seeing as how you couldn’t be bothered to show up. It’s happening already,” I say feeling suddenly sad and giddy all at once, “Not even gone yet and you’re already leaving me.”

“Lena I am so sorry, I got caught up with a project,” he says, “And Clara just wouldn’t shut up…”

Sober. Completely, irrevocably sober is how I feel as the words crash over my head.

“You were with Clara?” I say the words sounding small as they escape my lips, “You missed your birthday dinner, with me, because you were with Clara. Oh. My. God.”

“No, no it isn’t what you think!” panic covers his face as I shove away from the table, the chair toppling behind me. My body convulses involuntarily and I realize I’m dry heaving which seems impossible considering the amount of wine swimming in my system but nothing but the horrible hacking sound comes out of me.

“Get, out,” I choke my hands clutching onto the table, “GET OUT!”

“Lena please, let me explain!”

“No! The time for explanations was three hours ago, when I was sitting her like a fucking love sick idiot with lit candles and a home cooked meal for my boyfriend’s birthday! But you couldn’t be bothered to explain then could you! And you were with her! The one woman who has made my life hell from the moment you stepped foot into this town! Did you fuck her?” the words spill out and then image flashes through my mind before I can stop them which makes the sickness only settle deeper inside of me, “Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. Just get out!”

“No, no you aren’t going to just kick me out without giving me the chance to explain,” he says the authoritative side of him coming out to play, “I most certainly did not fuck Clara. I was discussing Witchcastle history with her, for my project you see, and I simply lost track of time, and this all happened after I made it perfectly crystal clear that I do not now, nor ever have the intention of being romantically involved with her because I am infuriatingly in love with a woman who is insistent on believing the worst of me!”

“Oh,” the word tumbles from my lips as I find myself sitting heavily in the chair, and before I can stop them the tears come. He approaches me slowly until he’s kneeling in front of me, his hands coming to rest on my legs, “Thomas you-you can-can’t be in love with me. It’ll never work.”

“It will if we make it. You are it, Helena. There was no one before you and no one to follow. Don’t you see it yet?”

“But, but how? I-I’m just me, plain, and ordinary me, and you-you’re…No. No this can’t be, take it back,” I demand pitifully.

“I can’t change fact Lena, not even for you. I started sliding the moment I saw you. You looked at me with such warmth, and the first thing that came out of that beautiful mouth of yours was not what I expected it to be. I thought for sure you recognized me, but you didn’t. Do you know how incredibly refreshing it was to just be treated as a hapless stranger who had the misfortune of getting stranded in the rain? I was done for the moment I saw you bathed in the lights of the fireworks,” he says his hands cupping my face and I believe him, every blessed word digging a deeper hole in my heart.

“Thomas,” I whisper but he swallows my pleading voice expertly silencing me with his lips. His hands are rough his fingers dive into my hair, tightening slightly and as quick as the kiss began it ends as he gives a slight tug and my head falls back giving him access to feed on the column of my throat, and he does so, greedily.

“I think about you every moment, of every day,” he growls as he presses my back into the wall of hitching one of my legs up so that it’s wrapped around his waist, “I need you so much it hurts.”

“Take me,” I gasp as his fingers find me driving deep and fast, “all of me, I’m yours.”

 

_**-XX-**_  

 

I lay sated tucked under Tom’s arm a hand lying over his chest as he hums in the back of his throat, my fingers tracing lazy patterns over his impossibly smooth skin.

“Best birthday to date,” he says and pressing a kiss to his shoulder I smile, eyes snapping open.

“Hold that thought,” I scramble from the bed tossing his shirt on over my head as I make my way to the kitchen, and opening the pantry door I draw out the heavy box wrapped jokingly in Thor gift paper, a black and green bow prettily fastened to the top. I make my way back into the room to find him propped up on an elbow, eyes clouded from our earlier love making.

“Is that for me?” he asks a chuckle following when he clicks on the bedside lamp taking in the sight of the box I hold.

“It is your birthday isn’t it? That usually entails gifts,” I say setting it in front of him, before scrambling up to sit cross legged across from him. He sits up and giving me a quick and blinding smile he reads the card first, and setting it aside he tears at the paper scattering it all over himself and the bed.

“What in the world is in here?” he demands ripping the box open, and pulling the shipping peanuts out by the handful I see the realization cross his face, “Helena…”

“I found them back in Bellevue, in that little book shop we spent time in. I had it set aside so you wouldn’t find and buy them for yourselves.”

“The New Temple Shakespeare in Forty Volumes, Helena, this, this is a true gift,” he says as he reverently lifts a book from the sleeve long fingers brushing lovingly at the cover, “Thank you, so much.”

It’s in this moment that I realize I would live and die a million times if it means seeing the smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again all of my darling readers!
> 
> I have to take a moment and say how just amazed I am that I am one away from 500 hits, and one away from 30 kudos. Seriously, it means the world the to me, a huge, HUGE thank you to all of those who take just a second to hit that button for me. You guys all mean so much to me, and for those who take the time to leave a comment, I can never express what your words do for me. Honestly.
> 
> There is only three more chapters left in this first part of the series, and I have news on the sequel front. I had worked through the first thirteen chapters, and lost every single one of them. Luckily though, I am a believer that everything happens for a reason (a conclusion I settled on after crying hysterically and nearly drowning myself in some cookie dough ice cream) All in all, I believe it was for the best since I wasn't entirely sure if I was going in the right direction, and now I'm much clearer on where I want to go. I am happy to report that I have the first three chapters rewritten, with more coming every night.
> 
> I hope all who stumble across my corner of fiction world enjoy what they read here. Please feel free to leave a kudo or two, even a comment if you're feeling really generous, it will rock my world (in the best possible way.) Love you all.
> 
> Love,
> 
> -EM


	24. Quiet Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say that dreams are a window into the dreamers soul and what their heart wishes for the most...and sometimes all a person needs is the quiet comfort of a shoulder to cry on.
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> This chapter contains Helena angst (what can I say, she's an old pro at it by now)

**_Chapter Twenty Four: Quiet Comfort_ **

_“Because sometimes when someone is hurting so much and their world is falling in around them, all they need is the quiet comfort of a shoulder to cry on.”-Anonymous._

**_-XX-_ **

****

_Every hour on the hour a dozen brightly colored Gerbera Daisies are delivered, and every hour on the hour I smile like an idiot as my fingers dance over the baby soft petals. I haven’t seen Thomas yet today, since I woke to find him gone, but with each delivery I feel like I have a piece of him here with me._

_Seven hours, seven dozen daises, and with the bell over the door letting out a little chime I turn smiling for the delivery man._

_“Helena Flynn?” the young man asks and nodding my head he approaches with a large box in his hands. It’s shaped differently from the boxes that the vases before it were tucked into and signing my name I wave a soft goodbye setting the package on the counter. I contemplate it, and with fingers shaking with curiosity I pull the baby pink ribbon loose from it and lift the top. I unfold soft white paper breath rushing from my lungs as my fingers brush at the sparkling fabric and lifting it up and out I shake my head._

_The champagne colored gown is gorgeous, tiny crystal beads sparkling under the light and pressing it to my chest I pick up the card and read._

_‘For tonight, the car will gather you at nine o’clock.’-Thomas._

_8:45_

_Smoothing my hands over the gown I ignore the glowing numbers of the clock on the bedside table and the nerves that jump in my stomach. The material of the gown feels wonderful against my skin, and I’ll admit that I’ve indulged in a slow circle or two reveling in the way the train of the gown lifts and twirls around my ankles._

_My makeup is perfect, and adding a final touch of peach lip stain I sigh. This feels like a fairy tale, a beautiful one that I just found myself waking too. I shiver lightly at the idea and looking at myself I realize something is missing. I can’t place my finger on it though. I press a hand to my stomach as I contemplate and then it comes to me. I turn to the small jewelry box on my dresser and opening it I quickly find what I’m looking for._

_I damn the fact that my fingers shake as I clasp the star pendent to my throat, even more so when I jump at the knock on my door that echoes around me. Casting one final glance to the clock I realize I’ve wasted fourteen minutes getting lost in my nervousness._

_Pulling the door open I find an older man dressed in all black filling the space of my porch._

_“Miss. Flynn?” he asks and I nod taking the hand he offers as he takes a step off the stairs, “Right this way ma’am.” I close the door behind me, lifting the train of the gown in my free hand so it doesn’t sweep across the dampened ground. He leads me to a luxury car with dark tinted windows, and offering me a sweet smile that twinkles in his eyes he opens the door for me, and once I’m safely inside he closes it skirting around the front of the car to get behind the wheel._

_The ride is shockingly short and I stare in confusion as we stop in front of the estate. Really? All this pomp and circumstance for a two minute drive, I very well could have walked. Shaking my head as the door opens I take the hand that meets me and stepping free of the car I realize that Benny stands at the top of the stairs leading to large entrance way of the estate. My heart flutters as he turns in his suit a slow smile forming on his lips._

_“Benny?” I question and before I can gather my dress and run to him he’s coming down the stairs and wrapping me in a warm and tight hug, “Benny you’re supposed to be in New York.”_

_“Is that right?” Benny asks laughing as he tucks my hand in the crook of his arm, “and here I thought I was supposed to be escorting the belle to the ball.”_

_“How, when did you get here?” the question rushes out of me as we walk slowly up the stairs and his laughter fills the air._

_“I flew, we did actually, John and I, last night. That man of yours arranged everything,” he says, once we reach the top he turns to look at me, “you look beautiful little sister, just wait until you see what’s inside.”_

_The heavy wooden doors open slowly and I’m ushered inside to the grand foyer which is bathed in flickering candle light, the scent of roses perfuming the air as violins weep sending a shiver up my spine, and with a trembling breath I step into the ballroom. Twinkling lights drip from the ceiling, twining around pillars glowing against black billowing fabric reminding me of stars winking and dancing against the night sky._

_“Momma Bee,” I whisper taking in the sight of her and Joseph, both equally stunning in their dressy attire as they stand together hands clasped._

_In the center of the dance floor he stands smiling as I take a shaky step towards him. He’s dressed in the black suit I favor, his tie the same champagne color of my gown, and he holds a hand out to me._

_My Thomas._

_I take his hand watching in heady delight as he presses a tender kiss to my skin._

_“Hello Valentine,” Tom murmurs and I smile fighting the growing emotions._

_“Hi,” I manage to whisper clearing my throat of the lump that’s formed in it, “Thomas, this, this is too much.”_

_“There is no such thing when it comes to love,” he says before finally capturing my lips with his._

_I watch Tom as he circles the dance floor with Momma Bee as I smile into my glass of champagne. Tonight has been a dream, one I refuse to question. After all it isn’t every day the estate is reserved for an intimate party of six, and how they managed the live band, or any of it is beyond me at this point. Instead I focus on the beauty of it all. The simplicity of feeling what I for so long refused to even think a possibility._

_“I know that look,” Joseph’s deep voice startles me from my thoughts, and I smile tipping my head up to look at him, “I have that look every time I look at my Marion.”_

_“They make a picture don’t they?” I ask and in response he laughs lightly before extending a hand to me, and I take it letting him lead me to the dance floor. The music pipes around us, a classic number I’m surprised the band has in their repertoire._

_“Is it possible that one person can change so much for you?” I ask keeping my voice just low enough for my partner to hear._

_“When I first met Marion I was an angry man, running from life, she changed that. Healed the hurt inside of me,” he says and the sound of complete and utter devotion in his voice is enough to bring tears to my eyes, “So yes, it’s possible, when it’s the right person.”_

_The music changes, familiar chords filling the air, and as fluidly as if I was floating in a pool I’m transferred from Joseph’s warm embrace to Tom’s, and everything inside of me just seems to lift and sigh._

_“Hello there,” Tom’s words are warm and soft as my head comes to rest on his shoulder, a feat I have to thank the heels I’m wearing for, and I smile as his hand covers mine which lies over the tie he wears. He smells delicious, a scent I haven’t been able to put my finger on because it’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before._

_“I was having a wonderful time watching you dancing with Momma Bee, she’s smitten with you,” I murmur, eyes closing as he leads me in the slow dance._

_“The feeling is very mutual. She’s a fascinating woman, but she isn’t the only fascinating woman I find myself smitten with presently,” he says at length and I feel the familiar kick of panic in my chest causing my eyes to snap open._

_‘I’m in love now._

_Kiss me like you wanna be loved_

_You wanna be loved_

_You wanna be loved_

_This feels like falling in love_

_Falling in love_

_We’re falling in love’_

_The words dance between us as he sings them in my ear, and the breath hitches inside of me. I’ve been running from this the moment he confessed he’s fallen in love. Running from the inevitable let down. He’s leaving and if I was smart I’d make the break now, as cleanly as possible._

_I can’t though, as much as I’ve tried fighting it, I’ve fallen, like Alice down the rabbit hole. He’s everything and everywhere, constantly surrounding me, and I know that when he does leave he’ll be taking my heart with him. I close my eyes as his hand holds mine to his chest and I refuse the tears release as they spring to my eyes._

_He’s given me a fairy tale I didn’t even know I wanted in a matter of months, and if my heart is the price I have to pay for a lifetime of remembering this moment, and the moments before it, he’s worth it._

_“Marry me,” the words are a whisper under the music._

I wake from the dream finding myself in bed next to Tom who sleeps soundly, his arm wrapped around me, his face pressed into my shoulder and the sob lodges in my throat as I press shaking fingers to my lips to keep it in. It had been so devastatingly real for a moment, and then it was gone, like a snap of the fingers. I slip out of bed my movements slow as he stirs and when he curls around my pillow I stoop down picking up my pajamas as I head for the door.

 

**_-XX-_ **

 

“I find myself wishing,” my words trail off getting stuck in my throat as I swallow the emotions, unshed tears burning behind my eyes. I can’t make out the world beyond the window, unable to focus on anything other than the pain insistent on running its rampant and erratic course through me.

“Wishing what, little bird?” Momma Bee’s sweet soft voice opens the flood gate inside of me and the tears begin their slow descent down my face, feeling warm against my chilled lips as I turn to look at her. She stands in her weathered yet favorite pink robe, her hair swept over one slim shoulder, slender hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, a look of understanding on her lined face.

“That he was just Thomas, an ordinary man. I know that’s selfish, and petty, but…he’s leaving, and I feel like... I put on the smile, for him, and pretend that I’m okay, but I’m not. I’m an ordinary girl who has fallen in love with an extraordinary man and he’s leaving, and nothing will ever be the same after that…” my arms instinctively wrap around my middle trying to stifle the choking sobs as I try desperately to hold myself together, terrified I’m going to just simply shatter into a million pieces that will be impossible to put back together.

“Sweet girl,” her voice breaks through the pain and is light yet ripe with understanding as she takes my face between her soft hands, “I’d question not only your sanity but the seriousness of your feelings for Thomas if you didn’t wish he’d stay. That makes you neither selfish nor petty, what it makes you is human. You’re wrong on only one account,” she forces me to look at her, her own soft hazel eyes brimming with tears, “You are anything but ordinary. I know you are hurting, but all the greatest love stories involve a little pain, and I’m willing to bet all I hold dear that he’s hurting as much as you.”

“What am I going to do Momma Bee? What am I going to do? I can’t breathe, I just, I-I-I can’t breathe,” I cry into her shoulder and she lets me in her quiet, comforting way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Kiss Me (Ed Sheeran) 
> 
> Need (Hana Pestle)
> 
> Hello my lovelies!
> 
> We're getting closer, with the posting of this chapter there is only two to follow, but have no fear, I'm still busily working on the sequel. A very special shout out to AdoraBelleDearheart for your amazing comment which made my night, and for all the kudo droppers, don't think I've forgotten about any of you, or the subscribers! Seriously, you guys are all amazing and if I could I would hug each and every one of you (I'm kind of big on hugs.) Thank you all for sticking with me this far and for continuing to enjoy my made up world. The best is yet to come, I promise.
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> EM
> 
> P.S Don't forget to check out my tumblr page for this series at witchcastleseries.tumblr.com


	25. Goodbye Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come and Helena doesn't know how she is going to get through it. Here the lesson is learned that to love doesn't necessarily mean coming out of the other end unscathed. 
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> This chapter contains heart ache of epic proportions (And that's saying something all things considered) oh and sex....
> 
> As always, Read, Enjoy, and if your feeling particularly friendly drop a kudo or comment my way.

**Chapter Twenty Five: Goodbye Love**

_“Goodbyes, they often come in waves.”-Jarod Kintz._

**_-XX-_ **

I know he’s here. I don’t have to turn from the kitchen window that I’ve been staring through for the last twenty minutes to know it. My subconscious feels him, and it’s like my soul sighs inside of me, as if saying _“finally, you’re here.”_

His hands are warm as long fingers cup my shoulders, squeezing lightly before trailing down to intertwine with mine, his chin rests atop my head and a contented sigh escapes him, rumbling his chest which is pressed to my back.

“You were gone early this morning,” Tom’s voice is low, his breath hot against my ear and I close my eyes taking the sensation in.

“I was with Momma Bee,” I reply, leaving out the emotional breakdown and heartfelt confession that took place in front of her. He turns me to him, wide palmed hands framing my face, his fingers brushing over my face before sinking into my hair.

“Are you all right?”

I want nothing more than to tell him the truth. To tell him that my heart feels so heavy and weighed down by the grief that his impending departure from my life has created that every breath I take is a practice in futility; because breathing isn’t always an indication of being alive, of being all right.

 I want to tell him that I’ve been more alive in the last six months with and because of him, than I ever was in the twenty seven and a half years that came before him, and the idea of him being gone is enough to drive me mad with a heartache that only true loss can make a person feel.

But I can’t.

I try, and the words won’t come out. So instead I swallow them, locking them away behind a shaky wall of denial and slide instead into a smile. He smiles back, light blooming and warming his face, and my eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips to my forehead.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

No words are needed as he takes my hand, leading me down the hall, our feet quiet on the wood floor, each step causing my heart to pound quicker against my ribs, which seems silly. We’ve been here before, many times, and if ever there was a time that I need to feel some sense of confidence it would be now.

I twist my fingers together nervously as he shuts the bedroom door behind us, and by the time he crosses back to me I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“You’re trembling,” his voice is low as he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur and a small chuckle fills the air, and his lips take mine soft as silk and as sweet as honey. My hands work off instinct as they grip his hips, fingers gliding under the soft material of his sweater, nails scraping against soft and warm skin. His breath hitches in that way I’ve come to crave as he rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed lips parted just slightly.

So I continue my slow movements, pushing his sweater up as my hands explore his sides, the dip and rise of his ribs, the down soft hair on his chest, and watch mesmerized as he fluidly lifts an arm up pulling the sweater over his head discarding it on the carpet.

Smiling I press my cheek to his skin, reveling in the sound of his beating heart and with a shaky breath bat away the tears and emotions that have seemed to make ruining this moment the number one priority on their agenda, instead I set out to show him what I have failed at telling him.

I press feather light kisses to his skin, the taste of him dancing giddily into my head, and I’m so drunk on him I barely notice the way his fingers move in circles over my skin, pulling my shirt slowly up until it joins his on the floor, then he’s kissing me again. Pulling me deeper and deeper into him, until I feel as if I’m drowning and all too happy for it.

His teeth and tongue, slipping over the slope of my shoulders, across my collar to the hollow of my throat, stokes a fire inside of me building it to a blaze and with eyes blurred and unfocused I become aware of the fact that he’s undressing, stepping long muscular legs out of his trousers, and slowly he kneels before me, my hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

He presses his nose to my stomach, drawing in a deep breath before he begins an exploration all his own. I can’t help the sound of need that he pulls from me as he unfastens the button on my jeans, and with his eyes on me he moves the zipper down torturously slow, fingers dipping under denim, his mouth following their lead until at last I can step free of them.

“Hold onto me,” he murmurs as he stands my arms circling his neck his fingers trailing down my spine, arms circling my waist, drawing me up and onto the bed.

We’re breathing as one, ragged and desperate, coaxing more and more from each other, the stubble on his face deliciously rubbing against me as he pulls me free from the lacy little number that Benny had convinced me to buy for such an occasion as this. It’s a match of wills, where his teeth nip, my nails bite, until finally we’re both wound so tightly it’s a wonder the whole room, with us at the center of it, doesn’t simply spin out of control.

He throbs against me and with my eyes closed back arching slightly I hitch a leg up and over his hip.

“Look at me,” he pants, “Helena I want to see you…”

I try to focus on him as he fills me, and his jaw clenches, the muscles in his arms going taut as he stills, his eyes blazing into mine. I stroke his face, committing the feel of his skin under my fingertips to memory as I slowly move under him, setting the pace for us. I want it to last forever, this feeling, this fullness that he’s brought into my life, to have him buried in me, all around me, my own personal fortress.

My emotions war within me almost as viciously as my need while the pace quickens becoming more primal. He keeps taking me up, pushing me closer to the edge before pulling me back from the brink only to do it over and over again; until I feel I’m going to implode. I’m vaguely aware that under the sound of our labored breathing and the pounding of my heart that echoes and pulses in my head, he’s talking, his voice low the tone almost desperate and before I can make out the words I tumble over the edge and shatter around him.

I lay in his arms, our legs tangled together as his fingers gently comb through my hair. His heart has slowed to the steady rhythm that has become my favorite lullaby, and with a glance at the clock my breath hitches and throat thickens.

The reality has dawned on me, he’s leaving, not even a handful of precious hours are left before he’s gone, as quickly, or so it seems to my fragile heart and sensibility, as he came into my life.

“You’re thinking too much,” Tom’s voice is quiet and satisfied, “Stop looking at the clock.”

“I can’t help it,” I murmur watching another number tick by as if mocking me and his answer to this is to roll me over so that our positions are flipped and my back is now to the looming countdown to his departure.

“Let’s sleep, one more time,” he says pulling the blanket up and over us, pulling me until my face is buried in his neck and his arms are wrapped tightly around me.

 

I keep my eyes closed feigning sleep, chest tightening as I feel the brush of his lips at my temple before his weight shifts and lifts from the bed. I count the seconds listening to the bathroom door open and the water in the shower start and slowly my eyes open. I want to join him, have one more intimate moment, but I can’t bring myself to move. All I can do is convince myself to keep breathing, even if it’s killing me.

 

_**-XX-** _

 

The sound of Joseph’s car coming down the lane is enough to have my heart seizing in my chest as I stand in the kitchen, trying to keep myself busy.

“Suppose that’s my ride,” Tom’s voice comes from behind me, and I fix a smile to my lips before turning to face him. I know I made the right decision, choosing not to go to the airport. This is hard enough to get through without having to keep my emotions under control while surrounded by a sea of people.

“Right on time, as always,” I say, praying that my voice is as steady as I’m trying desperately to make it.

“You’re sure you won’t come to see me off proper?” he asks and I sigh shaking my head slowly as he steps closer.

“You know why…” my voice breaks a little and I have to clear my throat.

“I know, was just hoping for the cliché heartfelt airport scene, they’re all the rage you know,” his voice is soft and filled with a pained humor as he folds me in his arms and I hold onto him, hands bunching into the back his sweater.

We walk, arms wrapped around each other to the door, and my heart breaks a little at the sight of his luggage neatly lining the wall. Joseph comes up the stairs and silently opens the door taking the suitcases out and with a small nod heads towards the car.

I kiss him one more time, refusing to let a single tear fall, though I know my eyes are swimming with them and the smile I offer him is shaky at best. We’ve already made the promises to talk as much as possible and should the opportunity present itself, see each other when we can, so really there is nothing more to be said, except for goodbye.

I open my mouth but before the words can come out he squeezes my shoulders.

“Don’t, please. I hate that word,” he says and I hug him, and sensing his hesitation and knowing I have to be the one to make the break, and because I know I’m so close to begging him to stay, I pull away and playfully push him through the door.

“Go, or you’ll miss your flight.” He chuckles a wonderful yet poignant sound and as I lean against the door frame I watch him climb into the passenger seat of the car, and lifting my hand in a wave in response to his own, the breath hitches in my chest I watch the car disappear from the lane, and I can’t help but wonder if he knows he’s taking my heart with him.

 

**_Tom’s POV_ **

**_-XX-_ **

The car is blessedly silent as he stares through the window, the sea of Evergreens a blur, his emotions to unsettled for him to appreciate the beauty.

“She loves you, you know,” Joseph’s voice is serious, a contrast to his normal carefree nature, and of course he knows she does, he has eyes after all, and oh, he loves her. An overwhelming, almost debilitating love that he still cannot fathom.

“I’d ask you to stay, if I thought it would do any good, because well, she’s going to be a mess,” Joseph says at length, “But I won’t, I promised her and my Marion that I wouldn’t interfere, just, Thomas, don’t hurt her.”

“The last thing I would ever want or intend to do is hurt her,” Tom says his words genuine and with a sigh born of genuine despair he closes his eyes recalling the smile of the girl he loves.

 

**_Lena’s POV_ **

**_-XX-_ **

****

My phone chirps at me and I smile lifting it up to read the words on the screen.

_‘Up, up, and away love…I miss you already…I love you.’_

With a shake of my head I begin to tap my reply.

 _‘Safe travels Thomas…’_ my fingers hover, seemingly frozen as I debate adding more, wanting to tell him I miss him too, and that I wish he would have stayed, instead I press send and silence the device before wrapping myself around the pillow that still smells of him.

 

I know Benny watches me through the computer screen as I work on the pastries for tomorrow, and I try to ignore him but to no avail.

“You’re staring,” I murmur, fingers deftly working the dough.

“I just don’t understand,” his voice trails off as he lifts the glass of wine to his lips.

“What don’t you understand?”

“You could have asked him to stay; he would have, for you…”

My hands still at his words while I stare blindly at the counter.

“What kind of person would that make me, that I would ask him to make the choice between me and what he loves, what gives him passion and purpose?” I whisper, my voice straining, “If I used what I feel for him, what he feels for me, as a bargaining chip, to get him to stay. I’d never forgive myself, and he’d resent me for making him give up what he was meant to do. I wanted to, desperately, but I couldn’t. I would never do that to him…oh,” the words choke out of me as I hang my head sobbing, “Oh he’s gone, he’s really gone…”

I sink to the floor rocking back and forth to the sound of my own broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Breathe Again (Sarah Bareilles)
> 
> Hello my lovelies, well here we are. Only one more chapter is left to part one of The Witchcastle Series. First off I want to say another HUGE thank you to AdoraBelleDearheart for commenting and making my days that much brighter, and to all those who have dropped a kudo or two my way, or subscribed and bookmarked my little corner of fiction land. You are all amazing. 
> 
> The last chapter will be up some point this weekend, if not Saturday than by Sunday, and I'm hoping that by mid next week I will have enough written of the sequel to feel comfortable in starting to post it. I sincerely hope you all stick with me for the ride.
> 
> Much love,
> 
> EM
> 
> P.S don't forget to check out witchcastleseries.tumblr.com for updates, randomness, music, etc.


	26. Epilogue: Say Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the passing of time, revelations are made that undoubtedly spell trouble and heart ache for our lovers.
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> Angst...Oh so much angst

**_Epilogue: Say Something_ **

****

**_6 Weeks since Goodbye_ **

**_April 19 th._ **

****

**_-XX-_ **

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

_I’ll be the one, if you want me to_

_Anywhere I would’ve fallowed you_

_Say something I’m giving up on you_

**_-XX-_ **

****

Misery has been my greatest comfort; an unyielding friend who in every waking moment wraps me in her arms, drifting silently during the few text message exchanges and five minute Skype sessions Thomas and I have managed in the six weeks since he’s been gone, and as soon as it’s over, as soon as the phone is silenced and his face disappears from the screen, Misery is back.

My stomach rolls viciously as I open the shop and because it’s been that way for a few weeks now, I make the mental note to try and get into the doctor, wondering if all the stress as of late has finally starting taking its toll on me. It’s barely seven a.m. and already I wonder what he’s doing and if he’s thinking of me the way I’m thinking of him.

I sigh as I shake the apron out tying it around myself, and when the door behind me chimes open I turn to find Momma Bee her eyes watching me curiously.

“You look awful,” her voice is stern as she stares at me and I laugh a sarcastic sound as I pull a mug down for her.

“Thanks, I love you too,” I mutter pouring coffee for her and before I can turn to give it to her she’s behind the counter taking my arm in her hand forcing me to turn and look at her.

“You’re pale and the shadows under your eyes tell me you haven’t been sleeping, Helena, we’re worried about you,” she says and I shake my head at her.

“I’m fine,” I lie.

“The last thing you are girl is fine, and there is no use in lying to me. Now, I’m going to tell you what I think, no,  what I know your Momma would tell you if she were here,” she says and my heart sinks at the seriousness in her voice, “You need to go home, pack a bag, and go to him.”

“Are you crazy? Have I stepped into some twilight zone or something? You know that I can’t do that. The busy season has started. I can’t just close up shop and jet off to London to be with a man I’ve barely spoken to in six weeks,” I try to hide the bitterness but it’s useless. It’s there, and there is no denying it.

“What if you didn’t have to close up shop? What if I told you that Joseph and I have been talking about it, because we care and because we love you, and we both agreed to share in the responsibility of keeping this place running so you can go see the man you love?” I stare at her in shock as I set down the cup of coffee I was lifting to my lips.

“What?”

“Listen to me Helena James; we have been watching you and you are a ghost. Sure you do what has to be done in order to survive but just barely. You are misery walking, and we can’t take it.”

“Momma Bee…” I say alarmed by the tears I see swimming in her eyes.

“At least promise me you’ll think on it,” she urges me and I sigh nodding my head.

**_-XX-_ **

_And I am feeling so small_

_It was over my head_

_I know nothing at all_

_And I will stumble and fall_

_I’m still learning to love_

_Just starting to crawl_

**_-XX-_ **

****

**_7 Weeks since Goodbye_ **

**_April 26 th._ **

 

I stumble into the bathroom a hand clamped tightly over my mouth and after a short struggle with the lid on the toilet I get it raised and proceed to lose the contents of my stomach. My body shakes from the exertion and it isn’t until I’m finished with my head pressed against the blessedly cool tile of the bathroom floor that I curse food poisoning.

“Stupid, stupid new restaurant,” I mutter clutching onto the sink to help pull myself up; “I should have just ordered a pizza.” My stomach feels weak as I open the medicine cabinet and because I don’t have the strength to stand on my tip toes I blindly feel for the bottle of Pepto, knocking contents into the sink.

“Son of a bitch,” I groan picking up the scattered items pausing when I pick up the disc of tiny pills, and my world rocks around me as I flip it over in my hands seeing that they are from last month. I open the plastic case noting that not all the active pills were taken, “Oh no, no, no, no.”

 

As Thomas would say, _‘the proof is in the pudding,’_ or in this case the proof is in the stick, well rather the four sticks that line the bathroom counter. After all, there is only so many ways to confirm a positive test result. The tremble begins in my legs as I lower myself to the edge of the bathtub.

The trickle of panic starts somewhere in the back of my mind as I press a hand to my stomach.

“What am I going to do?” the question echoes around me bouncing in my head and before I can come up with a response my phone buzzes along the counter and lifting it I break into uncontrollable laughter. Oh not now, why now of all times would he decide to break the stagnant silence between us.

_‘Missing you.’_

The simple two word text lights something inside of me and lifting the phone to my ear I listen as it rings.

“Hello, hi, yes, uhm, I was wondering what your policy is on using an open ticket?”

“Where is it you’re wanting to fly to ma’am?”

“Lo-London, England.”

**_-XX-_ **

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

_I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you_

_Anywhere I would’ve followed you_

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

**_-XX-_ **

 

**_8 Weeks since Goodbye_ **

**_May 3 rd._ **

****

“Does lover boy have any idea that this time Tuesday morning you’ll be there?” Benny asks his face filling the computer screen and I shake my head smiling at him.

“Nope,” I say dusting the flour off of my hands.

“Aww how sweet, it’s going to be like a movie. You just showing up on his door step, I hope it’s in the rain too, that would be so romantic,” his voice goes dreamy and I roll my eyes, “When was the last time you talked to him? I wouldn’t be able to keep that kind of secret if I was talking to John every day.”

“He texted me last week,” I murmur and blushing slightly I confess, “And now that I think of it I never responded.”

“Helena!”

“I’m sorry there’s just been a lot on my mind,” I murmur clearing my throat as I turn to the sink to wash my hands, “Besides, I know he must be busy.”

“Still, you should have answered him. Speaking of lover boy and how busy he must be, I’m going to send you something,” he says and I listen as he clacks away at the keys of his keyboard a little blip noise replacing it when I get the link he sent. I open it and find that it’s led me to a YouTube video titled The Hiddles Exclusive and cocking an eye brow I minimize the screen.

“Really Benny? Keeping tabs are we? Please tell me you aren’t cyber stalking him,” I say and he laughs shaking his head, “I mean you are friends with him, I’m sure if you’re all that interested in what’s going on in his life you can just pick up the phone and call him.”

“I am not cyber stalking him, just keeping an eye on the latest gossip that’s all. I saw this this morning. Didn’t get to watch it, so I thought we could watch it together. So pull up a seat and press play. I’ll listen from this end.”

I do as I’m instructed partially because I know Benny will just whine until I do it anyways, but also because I’m curious.

I listen to the familiar voice, smiling as he talks so eloquently with the interviewer, even finding humor in his colorful description of what it’s like to be the most loved villain of all time.

_“Now, it’s rumored that you are only recently back from a six month holiday to the states, can you tell us about it?”_

_“Yeah, yeah, uhm, it was wonderful, it was a much needed distraction, and incredibly nice to just play the part of ordinary citizen for a little while.”_

Something akin to dread begins to ripple through me while listening to him speaking, and I ignoring Benny when he tells me to just stop the video.

“Shut up Benny, I’m listening,” I mutter muting the microphone so I can’t hear him anymore.

_“The rumor mills have begun to run rampant since pictures surfaced a few months ago of you with an unknown American woman._

_“Have they really?” he asks masking how uncomfortable he is with a broad smile._

_“Yes, many believe that she is your girlfriend, so what can you tell us about that? About where you sit in the love department?” the female interviewer presses on._

He laughs…that laugh I had fallen in love with a thousand times, shaking his head.

_“I’m afraid to report that I’m rather boring in the love department, I don’t really have any interest at this point in my life for all that…”_

_“So, no wedding bells or baby carriages in your near future then?” the woman runs right over him close to desperation for a clear answer._

_“Oh Lord no,”_ the words crash like a wave over me sweeping me up and away.

_Oh Lord no, oh Lord no, oh Lord no…_

I slam the laptop shut with such force that it slips from the counter, clattering to the floor, and unceremoniously and with no care for who might hear me I turn and vomit in the trash can. I empty myself, crying desperately as I sink behind the counter knees rising up as I bury my hands in my hair. The tears are hot and desperate as his laughing voice fills my head, mocking me.

_‘Oh Lord no, oh Lord no, Oh Lord no….’_

The wails echo back at me and for a second I wonder who is making that noise only realizing under the veil of pain that it comes from me.

“Lena?” a questioning voice calls out to me and lifting my eyes I see the last person I ever expected. Clara stands setting her handbag on the counter and with a hiccupping noise my chest heaves.

“He said he loved me…h-he said he was in love with me, a-and then he le-left and n-now I’m…and he…a-and he’s gone, h-he’s just gone.”

 

**_-XX-_ **

_And I will swallow my pride_

_You’re the one that I love_

_And I’m saying goodbye_

**_-XX-_ **

**_Momma Bee’s POV_ **

 

My heart hangs heavy in my chest as I brush the hair from Lena’s tear splotched face. She’s finally dropped off into sleep, and I pray at least there she finds reprieve from the heart ache.

She has to tell him, and I know, both in mind and heart, that he’ll be happy. I can picture it. He should be the one holding her hair as she rides this first wave of the change already starting in her, a change he had a hand in creating, oh and how I want to see the look on his face when her body changes, filling out in only a way that a child can create. He’d see all of them, no matter how subtle, because he doesn’t miss a thing, especially when it comes to her.

And I wish she could see that he’s conditioned to give the answers he gives. That in his business the illusion of availability is one of the number one tools in the great big bag of Hollywood tricks; but the truth lies within him, tucked safely away, where you can see it if only you knew what to look for and could get close enough to see.

For surely, he wants to protect her from the hungry world he lives in, and the ridicule that can and would assuredly come with it.

But that’s for them to discover, and all I can do is wait as patiently as a mother’s heart can.

****

**_-XX-_ **

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

_And I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you_

_And anywhere I would’ve followed you_

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

**_-XX-_ **

****

**_Tom’s POV_ **

**_8 Weeks and Two Days since Goodbye_ **

**_May 5 th._ **

****

Finally, after weeks of constant moving and activity, he had a blessed day off, and with the copy of Othello he received from Helena tucked under his arm he walks through his flat dressed for comfort. He crosses to the laptop that sits on his table, and logging into Skype with every intention of ringing Helena up and convincing her into an overdue chat session he searches the meager list of screen names in search of hers.

Only she isn’t there. She’s mysteriously disappeared. She’s not even to be found under his recent history. The anxiety begins to fill him as he opens his email to see if she sent him one to notify him of a change to her account, but he finds it empty. Picking up his phone he scrolls through and finds her listing and with the call connecting he lifts the phone to his ear.

_‘I’m sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service, if you have received this message in error, please check the number and redial.’_

He redials, a million times, starting and restarting his phone in hopes that it’s simply a hardware malfunction, and when the same message plays again and again he groans. The light bulb of an idea flicks on over his head and rifling through his wallet he pulls out the card with Nessa’s Nook emblem. He dials the shop number, his heart aching in his chest.

_“I’m sorry the number you have dialed is no longer in service…”_

The phone falls heavy in his lap as the emotions override him.

She’s gone.

His Helena.

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

_Say Something…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music Muse(s)
> 
> Say Something (A Great Big World featuring Christina Aguilera)
> 
> Hello Lovelies, 
> 
> Well there you have it...and so brings the end of Say Something. But have no fear the sequel is coming along beautifully, and the first chapter should be up sometime tomorrow (June 30th.) I want to say a HUGE thank you to all of you that have stuck with me on this road, so from the top a big shout out and hug goes to waningcrescent, cloj, dragoness0420, DingoesAteMyBaby (mferretti), sweetsgal, LadyAlarah, cheryl72, WhateverVivie, and 49 guests who dropped a kudo or two my way (not to mention the comments that just made me super happy!) You all will never understand how much it means to me. Love you all.
> 
> Again, thank you for joining me in my little corner of fiction world, and I hope to see you all for the sequel.
> 
> Much Love,
> 
> EM
> 
> P.S as always check out witchcastleseries.tumblr.com for updates on the series, music, and random postings!


End file.
